Dark Heir
by LittleMissMycroft
Summary: Most of you remember the day that Severus Snape went to Voldemort, begging for the lives of the Potters. What if Voldemort had actually considered this and decided that Harry could be useful to him? How would the Wizarding World react to Harry Potter after he was raised by a Dark Lord? Dark!Harry. Annoying!Dumbledore. Rated T just in case. Now complete!
1. Part 1: Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the world of Harry Potter, nor its characters, nor do I make money off of it, etc, etc.**

 **This is my first story I have ever written, and I started posting it nearly two years ago on my sister's account, Lady Aramis, which you should check out (if you haven't already)! This story is complete and I will be moving it over to this account (my NEW account!) as quick as possible. This means I will be posting up to thirty-four chapters a day. Don't flame me.**

 **Without further ado, here is the very first chapter of the biggest fanfic I've ever written (and probably _will_ ever write): Enjoy! **

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**Chapter One: The Burden**

 _The_ _night wet and windy, two children dressed as pumpkins waddling across the square, and the shop windows covered in paper spiders, all the tawdry Muggle trappings of a world in which they did not believe…_

 _And he was gliding along, that sense of purpose and power and rightness in him that he always knew on these occasions… Not anger…that was for weaker souls than he…but triumph, yes… He had waited for this, he had hoped for it…_

… _along a new and darker street he moved, and now his destination was in sight at last, the Fidelius Charm broken, though they did not know it yet… And he made less noise than the dead leaves slithering along the pavement as he drew level with the dark hedge, and stared over it…_

 _They had not drawn the curtains' he saw them quite clearly in their little sitting room, the tall black-haired man in his glasses, making puffs of coloured smoke erupt from his wand for the amusement of the small black-haired boy in his blue pyjamas. The child was laughing and trying to catch the smoke, to grab it in his small fist…_

 _A door opened and the mother entered, saying words he could not hear, her long dark-red hair falling over her face. Now the father scooped up the son and handed him to the mother. He threw his wand down upon the sofa and stretched, yawning…_

 _The gate creaked as he pushed it open, but James Potter did not hear. His white hand pulled out the wand beneath his cloak and pointed it at the door, which burst open._

 _He was over the threshold as James came sprinting into the hall. It was easy, too easy, he had not even picked up his wand…_

" _Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"_

 _Hold him off, without a wand in his hand! … He laughed before casting the curse…_

" _Avada Kedavra!"The green light filled the cramped hallway, it lit the pram pushed against the wall, it made the banisters glare like lightning rods, and James Potter fell like a marionette whose strings were cut..._

" _Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead —"_

" _This is my last warning —"_

" _Not Harry! Please…have mercy…have mercy… Not Harry! Not Harry! Please — I'll do anything —"_

" _Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!"_

 _He could force her away from the crib, but it seemed more prudent to finish them all…_

 _The green light flashed around the room and she dropped like her husband. The child had not cried all this time: He could stand, clutching the bars of his crib, and he looked up into the intruder's face with a kind of bright interest, perhaps thinking that it was his father who hid beneath the cloak, making more pretty lights, and his mother would pop up any moment, laughing —_

 _He pointed the wand very carefully into the boy's face: He wanted to see it happen, the destruction of this one, inexplicable danger. The child began to cry: It had seen that he was not James. He did not like it crying, he had never been able to stomach the small ones whining in the orphanage —_

He looked down at the whimpering boy. So this was the child who had the power to defeat him?

Brilliant, tear-filled green eyes met icy blue ones tinged with scarlet, " _Avada_ —"

The pale-skinned man paused, lowering his wand as he remembered a conversation he had had with Severus, his spy, only a few days before.

" _My Lord," Severus started, "forgive me, but I believe that the Potter boy could be useful to you."_

" _Really, Severus?" he had whispered softly, "Are you sure you're not just trying to prevent an old friend's son from being killed?"_

" _My lord — the prophecy — it only speaks of one with the power to vanquish you. Not that he actually_ _will_ _vanquish you — this power could prove to be useful to you."_

" _Perhaps. I will think on it," the Dark Lord had whispered, gazing at the young Death Eater pensively. "Now leave me. I tire of your company."_

 _Severus bowed low to the ground and backed away on his knees._

Yes. Now that he actually thought about it those words did make sense. It was quite likely that the child might grow up to be a powerful _aid_ to him—after all, the prophecy which Severus had overheard did not mention that the child would vanquish the Dark Lord, only that it would have the power to do so. It would be prudent to have the child raised in such a way that it would never even consider vanquishing him. Yes, that was a good plan.

The man was uncertain if he should raise the boy himself, though. He couldn't stand small children. He had never had any patience for the little ones at the orphanage.

Making up his mind, the Dark Lord nodded decisively. He thought furiously. It would do no good to allow Dumbledore to know that Voldemort had taken the prophecy child. The old coot would likely arrange an ill-conceived 'rescue' attempt to regain his infant saviour. No, the best thing to do would be to make the whole world believe Harry Potter was dead, and—Voldemort had sudden inspiration—him as well.

He would be able to lull the whole world into a false sense of security as he raised this child of prophecy to be his own heir. Once the boy had started Hogwarts he could resume his fight.

Voldemort cast a spell right in front of the door which created a scorch mark and did the same right in front of Harry's crib. Then he rubbed his wand in conjured ashes and left it there. The old fool would assume that both he and the boy had perished from a spell gone awry.

He pulled a spare wand out of a holster on his thigh and picked up the boy. The child stopped crying, startled, but stared at the pale man with wide eyes.

Voldemort then disapparated with the boy to a dark, lonely hill with an old house sitting atop it. The man calmly walked around the side of the grand old mansion, gazing at Slytherin Manor as he went. The child's head turned this way and that as it took in its new surroundings.

Voldemort had discovered this place in his twenties after a great deal of research and a ridiculous amount of ward-breaking. After claiming the decrepit property as his own, the young man had re-warded the Manor and its grounds to prevent intruders. It was even better warded than the infamous Black Townhouse, and young Tom Riddle was quite glad to have a home that was entirely his own.

After the war had started, the young Dark Lord had begun using this place as his base of operations, and had given a select few Inner Circle followers permanent access to the location—among them being Lucius Malfoy, his sister-in-law Bellatrix Lestrange, and the Dark Lord's young protégé Barty Crouch.

He went around back and unlocked the door. Voldemort then entered his study, a dark and practical room filled with books and a large oaken desk, and sat behind the desk there. He pulled out a piece of parchment and began to write. After a few minutes of writing he sealed the missive and handed it to an owl.

As the owl was flying out the window, Voldemort turned back towards the desk and began to think. He had sent a letter to Lucius telling him of his location and that he required his service. The Dark Lord would have to get some of his death eaters to infiltrate the ministry. It could be useful having influence over the Minister of Magic. He and the boy would also need aliases.

Suddenly Lucius apparated into his study. "You sent for me, my lord?" Lucius asked.

"Yes, Lucius," he replied, "I have decided that the Potter boy could be useful to me. I will need a few house elves to care for the boy. Also, in a few hours you will likely begin hearing reports of my death. If any inquiries are made, you will claim that you had no involvement in any Death Eater activities; if they give you any trouble, plead the Imperius curse and pull out some gold. I will give you compensation for any 'fees' necessary to clear your name."

He paused as Lucius took all this in, and then continued, "I also want you to bring Bellatrix here before she learns of my 'demise' and does something foolish. She will be assigned care of the child over your house-elves."

"Anything you need, my lord." Lucius said bowing his head slightly, "Rinkle! Dobby!" he shouted.

Two house elves apparated to the side of their master. One was ruddy and very old. The other was small and bouncy. He looked like he was very young.

"You two will go with the Dark Lord," Lucius commanded them, "You will do everything he says. Rinkle, Dobby, you now belong to the Dark Lord." They nodded and looked to Voldemort.

"Rinkle, you will be in charge of cooking our meals and all of the other house work," the old one nodded its head vigorously, "Dobby, you will be in charge of taking care of the boy. Give him whatever he wants or needs. You are under his command too," He handed the boy to Dobby, "Now go."

"You may leave as well, Lucius. I want Bellatrix here as soon as possible, remember that."

 _DOBBY—DOBBY_

Dobby was so happy. He had just started serving the Malfoys when Master had called him. Next thing he knew he was serving the Dark Lord and looking after the boy. A child! What every house elf dreams of.

 _DOBBY—DOBBY_

After Lucius had left Slytherin Manor, Voldemort began brewing a Blood Adoption potion and an Everlasting Spell potion. He would use the Blood Adoption potion to make the child biologically his own son, adding to James Potter's genetics to make the boy look like less of a Potter.

The Everlasting Spell potion was more complex. It would make any potion drunk or any spell cast on its consumer permanent and unreversable. The potion lasted for exactly one hour after being drunk, so he had to act quickly.

He pulled out a knife and prodded his finger, drawing blood. He let one drop fall into the cauldron of Blood Adoption potion before magically sealing up the cut. The potion turned scarlet, signalling its completion. The Everlasting Spell potion had already been finished and a portion poured into a vial, so the Dark Lord took a vial of the Blood Adoption potion as well and went to the nursery.

Harry was sitting on the floor playing with toys when Voldemort entered. "Dobby, make the boy drink this," he commanded the house elf, holding out the vial of Everlasting Spell.

"Yes, master!" Dobby squeaked immediately. The little elf then coaxed Harry into drinking it. Immediately after, Voldemort set to work.

He had Harry drink the Blood Adoption potion next. The child's hair lightened from black to a brown similar to Voldemort's own and his emerald eyes became a very pale shade of green. Voldemort then aged Harry by two years. The boy instantly grew slightly and lost a bit of his infant chubbiness. After the Everlasting Spell potion wore off Harry Potter had become three-year-old Harish Blake.

Voldemort had seen the newspaper earlier: _"—the most awful thing he has ever done, killing an infant boy. Only luck could have allowed for You-Know-Who to be killed as well."_ This disguise would prevent anyone from mistaking his heir for Harry Potter.

Eventually over the next year, Harish stopped asking about his parents. Later, since he was forbidden to call Voldemort uncle, the boy began to call him something else. Something Voldemort still couldn't get used to.

Father.

Harish grew older under the care of Dobby and Bellatrix Lestrange and years flew by while Voldemort tutored Harish to prepare for Hogwarts.

As the boy grew older, Voldemort's features began to become prominent in the boy's face because of the Blood Adoption potion; it officially made him Voldemort's son, even affecting his appearance. No one would ever suspect him of being James Potter's son—cousin, maybe, but then, everyone in the pureblood world was a cousin of some sort. The Dark Lord's plan was safe.

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 **As I wrote this over two years ago, it is a bit sloppy, but we all had to start somewhere (though it would have been MUCH worse had Lady Aramis not been editing it for me). I promise it gets WAY better. Now, for some questions:**

 **How do you think Harry (or Harish) will fare as the son of the Dark Lord? Will people ever find out who he really is?**

 **See you in the near future amidst the pages of my story! (hopefully)**


	2. Part 1: Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own no HP**

 **This one is a bit short, but necessary to the plot. Enjoy!**

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 **Chapter Two:** **A Scapegoat is Born**

The day after Voldemort disappeared with Harry, three of his Death Eaters breached the Longbottom safe house. Among them were Barty Crouch Jr, Rodolphus Lestrange, and his brother Rabastan. Rodolphus' wife, Bellatrix Lestrange, would've been there had she not been called up by the Dark Lord himself. She and the Malfoys alone knew that he was still alive.

The Death Eaters had gone off at short notice because they knew that the Longbottoms went into hiding at the same time the Potters did. Rodolphus, who was leading the little expedition, thought that they would likely know why Voldemort went after the Potters. This is why he could be seen breaking down the wards around the little cottage.

He watched the small family through a large bay window for a second before nodding to his brother. At that the two of them, a white faced Crouch trailing behind, blasted down the front door and filed into the Longbottoms' sitting room. He sneered when he saw that neither of the two aurors had wands on them.

"We've got a few questions for you," he said, still sneering.

Rabastan then said, "Yeah, and if you don't answer them—" he pounded his fist into his hand.

Rodolphus shot him a look and then continued harshly, "Why did the Potters go into hiding?"

The young couple glanced at each other before glancing back at the three Death Eaters in front of them. Rodolphus nodded to his brother, who grinned.

The younger brother then stepped forward and cast the cruciatus on Frank. The wizard under the spell sank to his knees but never let out a scream. After a few long seconds, Rabastan lifted the curse and Frank sat on the ground sobbing and gasping for breath.

Then Rodolphus rounded on Alice. "Maybe you'll have some answers for me."

"You'd have to kill me first," she growled, glaring at him.

The insane man thought for a moment before replying, "Maybe I won't have to." He then turned to Crouch and snapped, "Get the boy."

Crouch paled slightly at being addressed but nevertheless stepped forward and wrestled a one-year-old boy from the witch's grasp.

At this she started screaming, "Please! Don't touch Neville! Kill me, torture me, anything but don't hurt him!"

"That got a reaction," Rabastan said, grinning stupidly.

Rodolphus, however, began shouting as well. "Tell me why the Potters went into hiding!"

"Don't!" Frank shouted to his wife.

"CRUCIO!"

The auror was now writhing on the ground. Rabastan held the spell for over a minute. Rodolphus turned his wand on Neville and Alice began screaming again and he ended up torturing her as well. They spent after almost an hour, they finally left as they realized that they were not going to get any information out of the two Longbottoms, as they could no longer think straight from the pain. They exited the house leaving a baby boy, Neville, to sniffle and cry for his mummy.

After a couple hours, Dumbledore showed up and took Neville to his grandmother's. When she had answered the door, Dumbledore gave him to her, told her what had happened, and told her to keep a firm hand on the boy. Then, he left and called up an Order meeting.

"Why have you called us here?" Molly Weasley asked. A lot of the members that were left looked at him curiously, waiting for an explanation.

"As you know," he started, gaining everyone's attention. "The Potters were murdered by none other than Lord Voldemort." Everyone nodded, tears in their eyes. "Well, some Death Eaters wanted to know why he died, so they went after the only other family that went to hiding at the same time as the Potters, the Longbottoms." The room gasped. "Alice and Frank were tortured into insanity today, leaving poor Neville pretty much without parents. Now I am going to tell you all some information on why Voldemort went after the Potters and why they and the Longbottoms went into hiding. A couple months ago, a prophesy was made that spoke of a boy born at the end of July that would have the power to destroy Voldemort. There were two children that this applied to; Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom. Obviously, it wasn't Harry or he would still be here with us today, so we can only assume that the now orphaned child, Neville, is the one who can defeat Voldemort. We all know that he isn't really gone, so I have told you this so that we can protect the boy."

And with that he concluded the meeting. Poor Neville was then terrorized for the next ten years, everyone in the Order revering him. This was all a part of the master plan that Dumbledore had come up with. What did it matter that it crushed a poor boy's ego? It was for the greater good after all.

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 **Now, pleeeeeeeaaaase review! It lets me know how I'm doing and where to improve (not to mention the fact that it makes me feel good to know people are actually reading my story.) With that out of the way, here are my questions for you:**

 **Should Dumbles be punished? Will Neville end up being the saviour Dumbles wants? Will the Order treat him like they would have treated Harry had he 'lived'?**

 **TaTaForNow**


	3. Part 1: Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...I do not own Lord Voldies...*sigh*... I know! I do own Harish Blake! He is a character of my own making and no one can take that away from me! *runs away clutching Harish Blake like a teddy bear***

 **Okay, here's the new chappie of Dark Heir. I'm sure you will find it satisfying. *smirks* Thanks for the reviews! Pleeeaase keep it up! The reviews really do help me!**

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 **Chapter Three: Enter Isis: Snake-tactula!**

The Dark Lord sat on his bed yet again, staring out the window, and thinking. Harish's eleventh birthday was tomorrow. Don't get him wrong, he didn't care for the boy—he _didn't_ —and he was sure that he never would. But coming up with the child's birthday (August 15th) would entitle you to know it.

The boy still needed his school supplies and he had been planning for the past few weeks to take him tomorrow for a 'birthday present'. Of course technically he was just getting the boy his supplies _on_ his birthday, not _fo_ r his birthday. He absolutely did _not_ care for the boy.

As he was thinking about these things, he heard a knock on the door. Harish's pale face appeared beside the slightly open door, "Father, tomorrow's my birthday," Voldemort rolled his eyes. How could he not know that? "And I was just thinking about school. Are my school things coming by mail?"

He didn't answer the boy at this, but turned and looked out the window.

"I thought that maybe— this year— maybe you might take me somewhere for my birthday." At seeing Voldemort still not respond, Harish started to feel a little annoyed, "Instead of just staring out of your window, like you do _all_ _the_ _time_ ," he added. Voldemort's eyes flashed and Harish, knowing the temper his father sometimes had, took a step back.

"I'm sorry—" he started, "I didn't—"

"No, you're right," Voldemort whispered quietly, standing up, "I haven't gone out of this house for some time… You may go back to your room now." He ended with a stern tone.

"But—

" _Now!_ " he hissed and the boy jumped and ran out of the room.

 _VOLDIE-HATES-AFFECTION—AFFECTION-HATES-VOLDIE_

Harish sighed and lay back on his bed. He couldn't help but feel miserable. He had a nice room, large house, expensive clothing, and nearly always got what he wanted. The only thing was that his father fully ignored him. They used to at least talk, during his lessons for instance. Now this past year Father has been mostly avoiding him and hiding out in his room. He wanted more attention.

He really did love his father. He remembered when he was five; he would go around saying that he wanted to be his father when he grew up. That was also when he had figured out he was a Parseltongue. Ever since then, all he and his father spoke at home was the snake language. Then, of course, there was Nagini, his father's giant snake. He had loved having conversations with the snake. She seemed really intelligent. She would also tell him stories about his father. She had even told him of his father's school days, including the whole incident with the Chamber of Secrets.

Harish giggled. He couldn't believe that his father didn't think that Harish knew what his job was. Harish had known that his father was Lord Voldemort for nearly as long as he could remember. It had startled the Dark Lord greatly when he discovered that his son was in fact fully aware of his 'job' as a terrorist-style revolutionary.

He didn't really mind, though. He loved his dad and thought he was awesome. Everyone should worship the ground the Dark Lord treads on, in his opinion. His father was the coolest person in the history of the wizarding world since Salazar Slytherin and Merlin.

Harish hated his father's opponent Dumbledore, on the other hand, with a fiery passion. He knew that Dumbledore was the reason the two had been forced to hide in Slytherin Manor since Harish was a toddler, and Harish was also aware of how much his father resented the confinement. Harish didn't blame him—he hated being locked up in one place too, and it was all Albus Dumbledore's fault.

Harish still wasn't sure whether Father was actually planning to take him to Diagon Alley or not. If only he knew Legilimency. Then he might be able to tell what his father was thinking. He wondered what had caused his father to close up his shell like that. He guessed that he would never know, and would have to wait to see if they were going to Diagon Alley tomorrow. He hated waiting almost as much as he hated being stuck in this empty manor.

 _HARISH-WANTS-ATTENTION—YUM-YUM-YUM_

Voldemort entered Harish's room. "Come on, we are going to Diagon Alley," he said. Strangely enough, he felt satisfied when he saw the boy's sullen face perk up with excitement.

Harish was almost immediately at his side.

"Now before we leave," Voldemort said as Harish trotted happily up to him, "I need to tell you to not speak anything other than English while we're at Diagon Alley. No Parseltongue."

"Why?" Harish asked.

"Most people believe that Parseltongue is a dark talent. Britain especially insists that being a Parselmouth is a sign of a dark wizard. While I will admit that some of that prejudice was enhanced by my own formidable reputation, most of it was already present in the society before their war with me. In fact, Salazar Slytherin was greatly villianized by historians due to this very same talent. You will often find, my son, that wizard as a whole are idiotic sheep."

"Oh," Harish said.

"Okay now, we will be apparating there."

Harish nodded, preparing himself for the not so pleasant sensation that came with apparating. Then he gripped Voldemort's wrist and they disapparated.

They reappeared in the middle of the Alley and Harish stood in amazement. The place was so…full! It was loud and overwhelming as he watched the people bustle back and forth in the shops. Owls were screeching, cats were meowing, and toads were croaking.

He smelled wonderful smells of chocolates as they passed a candy store. There two witches haggling over some eels eyes. It was all so very different to what he was used to. He had a huge, silent manor all to himself and his father. Only occasionally did he go over to the Malfoy manor and play with Draco while their fathers talked, but that wasn't all that different. Even playing Quidditch with Draco up with all of the chattering birds had been more tame than this Alley.

Harish was herded into Gringotts so that they could use the boy's inherited fortune on their shopping trip. His father intended to teach him how to manage finances using the Potter money. When Harish had asked how he even had access to the Potter vaults an answer had not been forthcoming. His father had given him that tight-lipped glare he had whenever he did not wish to divulge information. Harish wasn't bothered. He would weasel the facts out of him eventually.

Voldemort walked up to the counter. He sneered down at one of the goblins and said, "We are here to open the Potter trust vault."

The goblin peered over the desk at them. "I'm afraid that the Potter vault is closed unless someone with Potter magic claims it," he said, sneering back at the man.

Voldemort scowled, "You can have him tested if you want."

Harish, who had been watching the interaction intently, noticed that neither his father nor the goblin were very happy. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. Why did his father want the Potter vault specifically? He grinned internally. This promised to be a very diverting mystery.

"Very well," the goblin said as another one walked up. "Griphook will take you to a private room to have the boy tested."

The two of them followed Griphook to a private room. Once there, the goblin took out a piece of parchment labelled, 'Potter' and had Harish put his hand to it. The paper glowed gold before writing scrawled across the page. Harish leaned forward and read the writing. It was just a list of the Potter accounts that were available to him (there weren't many) and how much stuff they had in them. At the bottom of the page, it said 'Harish Anata Blake: Potter Heir' and nothing else.

The goblin regarded the parchment with an odd look on its face.

"What did that mean?" his father asked Griphook.

"The parchment will turn blue if they have a relation to the Potters by marriage, red if by blood, and gold if only by magic. The parchment only rarely turns gold. In fact, I have never actually seen this arrangement occur before—I only knew it was possible due to prior record. This means that somehow, Harish Anata Blake is heir to the Potter trust vault, but he is not related to any Potter by blood."

"Ah," Voldemort said sounding confused, but Harish knew that look. He could tell that the explanation had made perfect sense to the man. "We would like to draw some gold out of the vault if you please."

Soon, Harish was trotting out of the bank behind his father, his money bag jingling merrily with the sound of several new galleons, sickles, and quite a few knuts.

Next, they went to Madam Malkin's Harish bought green and black robes. Then, they headed over to Flourish and Blotts and Harish convinced his father to buy him a book on jinxes.

After Flourish and Blotts, they headed to Apothecary. Voldemort bought Harish the essentials such as a cauldron and potion supplies. Then they moved on to Ollivander's. Finally. This was what Harish had been waiting for since he had been old enough to consider the idea.

Somewhere in the distance a bell tinkled as they stepped inside. "Good afternoon," said a soft voice somewhere.

"Hello," Harish said.

"Ah, but who are you?"

"Harish Blake," he replied.

"Hmm, Which is your wand arm?" Ollivander asked as he pulled out a measuring tape to begin to measure Harish for a wand.

"My right."

Voldemort started to edge out of the shop. He knew that Ollivander would recognize his second wand. The one that he nearly had to blackmail him to make. No doubt Ollivander would want to see his wand if he noticed him. He quietly opened the door and squeezed out into the fresh air.

 _OLLIVANDER-LIKES-WANDS—THEY-HAVE-BRAINS_

Harish watched the old man as he measured him.

"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr Blake. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and dragon heartstrings. No two Ollivander wands are the same."

Harish looked down at the tape measure and realized it was measuring his nostrils on its own. Ollivander was flitting through the wands, no doubt trying to find him a suitable wand.

"That will do," Ollivander said, and the tape measure crumpled in a heap on the floor.

He gave Harish wand after wand only to have them grabbed right out of his hand before he could wave it. The pile of tried wands grew higher and, to Harish's astonishment, so did Ollivander's mood.

"Tricky customer, eh? No doubt, we'll find the right match for you somewhere— I wonder— yes, why not— holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

As Harish took the wand, he suddenly felt a warmth in his fingers. He waved the wand over his head and green sparks flew out, dancing on the walls. "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed. Very good. Curious…" he muttered while wrapping up the wand and placing it back in its case.

"What's curious?" Harish asked earnestly.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Blake. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather—just one other. It is very curious that this wand should be destined to you when its brother—why, its brother belonged to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Why is that, sir?" Harish asked.

Ollivander pinned the boy with a steely gaze. "I have a very long memory, young man, for people as well as wands. I recognized your father sneaking out of my shop—and despite the changes he has made to his appearance I know exactly who he is."

At Harish's abruptly defensive stance, the elderly man smiled gently. "Do not worry, Mr Blake. I am, and have always been, completely neutral. No one dares to aggravate a wand-maker, particularly one of my calibre. Your father's secret is safe with me. I said that it was curious for this wand to choose you because it is most unusual for a child to have a brother wand to his own parent. I find that curious because such a choice shows great devotion to your father—and a great similarity."

Harish flushed a bit with pride. Somehow hearing that he was very similar to his father from this strange old man seemed quite significant. But Ollivander wasn't done yet.

"The wand chooses the wizard, remember…" he whispered. "I think we must expect great things from you, Mr Blake. After all, your father did great things—terrible, yes, but great. Your father is one of the most incredible wizards of his age…I should expect no less from his son."

Harish nodded, still a bit overwhelmed, and paid Ollivander seven galleons for his wand. As he turned to the front of the shop, he saw his father waiting for him outside with an eager expression on his face; very odd.

"Holly and phoenix feather," he announced proudly. His father reached out his hand and Harish handed it to him.

Voldemort felt something odd in his fingers and he knew that this wand was his wand's brother. He often wished he had his old yew wand back. The second wand he had convinced Ollivander to make him after his first was confiscated by the ministry as 'proof' of his demise worked quite well, but it just didn't have the familiarity his old wand did.

Harish waited for the Dark Lord to hand his wand back, and when he did, his father asked, "Would you like to go look at some snakes?" The blood adoption had given Harish some of Voldemort's gifts, including being a parselmouth.

Voldemort remembered when he had first figured out that the boy could Speak. Harish had been out in garden playing, when a little garden snake slithered in front of the boy. Harish had been unfazed and merely picked up the little snake and started talking to it. It had then become Harish's first pet snake.

"Sure," Harish replied, but then added uncertainly, "but aren't we only allowed an owl, cat, or toad?"

"Not if they don't know it's there," Father replied with a devious expression.

Harish smirked at that answer. They went into Magical Menagerie and walked over to some of the exotic and magical snakes. "What kind of snake is that?" Harish asked his father, pointing to a blue snake. It had wings that were feathered at the ends.

"That is a Quetzalcoatl," he replied.

"Oh," Harish turned back towards the Quetzalcoatl, _"What's your name?"_ he asked it in Parseltongue.

" _Isis"_ she replied.

" _Cool! Do you want to come with me?"_

" _Yes. It gets boring in this store and it's not every day I meet a Speaker."_

"I would like her, Father," he told him.

"We will take the Quetzalcoatl," Voldemort told the shopkeeper who opened the terrarium.

Harish reached his hand down to let Isis fly up his arm and onto his shoulder. "I wouldn't do that if I were you sir. He has a nasty temper."

"I have a way with animals," Harish replied, "Oh, and by the way, Isis is a she, not a he." The storekeeper gaped at him in astonishment as Isis slithered up his arm and curled about his shoulders. The two then walked out of the shop with their newest scaled addition and disapparated home.

* * *

 **Don't forget! Review! I** _ **am**_ **a Slytherin and I will nag you to death if you don't. Also some questions for today... What house do you think Harish will be in? What kind of friends will he make? What did that shopkeeper think about after they left...Some of these you will never know but I had to list at least three questions. *insert smiley face* Bye Bye! I shall nag you to review soon enough!**


	4. Part 1: Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Four: Devious Sortings and Worried Old Men**

The rest of the month Harish spent reading his text books, and as soon as he finished them he went perusing through the great Slytherin library for something else to keep him occupied. He was often having to find something to keep him busy so that he wouldn't get bored, such as reading or Quidditch.

Finally the time to get ready for school arrived. He had to pack his trunk (or order Dobby to do so) and make sure that he had bought all of the school supplies he would need. The night before September 1st he got Dobby to set his trunk by the door so that he would be ready to leave first thing in the morning. When morning arrived he almost literally pushed his father out the door to King's Cross Station.

They arrived at 10:45 and his father showed Harish how to get to the platform. "So you just run straight at the wall?" Harish asked.

"Yes," Voldemort replied, "Come on then. You go first."

Harish nodded and backed up his trolley. He breathed out and ran as fast as he could. When he found that he had made no contact with the wall, he opened his eyes to see a brilliant red engine. His father had come up next to him.

"Now, be sure not to get into too much trouble."

"Yes, sir. You are going to write to me, aren't you Father?" Voldemort was taken aback.

"I might." Harish narrowed his eyes trying not to show his disappointment. Might always meant no.

Harish then turned and ran off to the train to find a compartment.

When the train started up, Voldemort almost raised his hand to wave, before he caught himself. No he would not wave to the boy. He would _not_! Then, when he saw Harish poke his head out of the window to wave, he couldn't help it. Voldemort waved back. The Dark Lord grimaced as he saw the train disappear. This boy had turned him into an affectionate sap. He almost felt a hole inside as he walked out of the train station without the happy, bouncy boy he had gotten used to. Almost.

 _AWW—VOLDIE-BE-SWEET!_

Harish looked throughout the train but all of the compartments he passed were full. Finally he came to one that only had a pair of red headed boys that looked like twins. He heaved his trunk into the overhead railing in the compartment and sat down.

The boys turned around and looked inquisitively to Harish. "Who are you?" they asked in unison.

Do all twins do that?

"Harish Blake." He said formally as he held out his right hand and the one on the left took it and shook it roughly. Then the one on his right grabbed his left hand and shook it as well.

"Absolutely spiffing."

"Astoundingly wonderful to meet you old chap!"

When they didn't stop shaking his hands he twisted them out of the boys' grasps and wiped them on his shirt. The train started moving so Harish popped his head out the window and waved goodbye. He was astonished to see his father raise his hand in farewell, an almost-smile on the man's normally stern face.

"Who are you?" Harish asked them when he pulled his head back into the compartment.

"Fred and-" the one on the left said.

"George Weasley," the one on the right interrupted.

Harish nodded and looked out the window. His father was still standing there watching the train begin to pull out. "What house do you want to be in?" one of the twins asked; was it Fred?

"Slytherin," he said still not turning to look at them. He watched, still feeling rather dazed, as his father's small figure disappeared along with the platform.

"Man," Fred said.

"And I thought he was alright!" George finished elbowing his brother.

"Let us not get into old house rivalries. I'm guessing you would be hoping to be Gryffindors?"

"The whole family's been in it." Fred said solemnly.

What a shame. These were the first friendly people his age Harish has ever met. It just wouldn't do for them to be in rivalling houses.

"Well you know," Harish began slyly, "It would be very amusing if your _whole family_ was in Gryffindor, but you two were sorted into its rival house. Imagine what they would do!"

Harish sat watching the twins as they pondered their family's reactions.

"You know old chap?" George asked.

"That would be a _wonderful_ prank!" Fred exclaimed.

"The three of us—"

"Could have loads of fun—"

"In the same house!"

Harish beamed. The twins then proceeded to tell him about their pranks that they had done over the years. After a while the trolley came by and Harish bought loads of sweets to share just because his father had never let him have many. The train ride was made mostly of the twins sharing stories and joking about having to recruit Harish 'in the line of pranking duty.' The two of them were rather amusing.

At one point another red headed boy, this one slightly older and wearing horn-rimmed spectacles, poked his head in, trying to look dignified.

"All right there, Fred? George? You had best not get into trouble your first day." He said.

"All right Percy, we most definitely won't," they chorused together with angelic looks on their faces.

The older boy sniffed and walked out of their compartment.

"Who was he?" Harish asked.

"Percy,"

"He's a third year."

After a the sky began to grow dark, they changed into their school robes and waited to pull into Hogsmeade station. When they got out they could see the castle and a large man strode up with a large lantern.

"Firs' years! Firs' years this way!" he called out. They followed the giant of a man with a wild beard and small, warm black eyes down a narrow path. Harish wondered who he was.

"No more'n four a boat!" the giant called, pointing at a fleet of little boats bobbing in the lake.

Harish and the twins climbed into the boat along with a boy who had dreadlocks. The giant, who had a boat all to himself, shouted, "Evr'y one in? All right! FORWARD!"

The boats then zoomed across the smooth lake and when they reached a cliff with ivy hanging down, he shouted, "Heads down!"

When they passed through, they could see a close up view of the castle. All of the first years ooh'd and aah'd at the magnificent sight.

They were lead along a dark, damp tunnel until they reached an underground harbour, where they climbed out. They walked along the dark corridor until they came to the grassy lawn and then finally, climbed up a flight of steps to a pair of large oaken doors. The giant raised a fist larger than Harish's whole head and knocked upon the great doors three times.

It was immediately opened by a witch in emerald green robes. She had a harsh, stern face with her black hair drawn up in a bun. She did not look like someone Harish would want to cross.

"First years?" she asked, receiving a nod, "I'll take them from here."

 _ENTER-MCGONAGALL—WATCH OUT!_

Dumbledore sat in his seat in the Great Hall watching the first years file in. His eyes fell on a particular child with brown hair, handsome features, and pale green eyes. Harish Blake has never yet ceased to amaze him. When the boy had taken control of the Potter family account, he was astounded. He had never heard of the Blakes, so he got some people to find all that they could about them. He was startled even more when he had only found records of that year, talking of Anata Blake getting a job and Harish Blake coming to Hogwarts. It was like they hadn't even existed the previous year.

This year they appear out of nowhere and Harish Blake had taken over the Potter family fortune, closing the account from his influence. What was strange was that the son took it instead of the father. The boy seemed a bit young to have complete control over an account.

Harish, being one of the first few called stepped up to the stool and slipped on the hat that covered his eyes. After a second the hat called out, "SLYTHERIN!"

A Slytherin in charge of a whole Light family's fortune. He would certainly have to keep an eye on this boy.

 _DUMBLEDORE'S-CONTROLLING—UH-OH_

Harish beamed, jumped up, and walked briskly over to the Slytherin table. He caught the twins' eyes and fighting off a smirk, sent them a thumbs up. Just then, an older boy rounded on him.

"Who are you?" he asked with a rather impolite tone.

"Harish Blake." He replied nonchalantly.

A boy named Henry Moon got sorted into Ravenclaw.

"Blake? I haven't heard of any Blakes around here."

"Oh, really? I guess you were too stupid to notice anything. Why, my family is very old going far back to Slytherin's days." Technically that was true as he _was_ a descendant of Slytherin, but that was not something people would believe if he went about boasting it. He glared down his nose at the boy for a while but then turned his attention back to the sorting.

The older boy sat wondering how a child who was both younger and shorter than him could pull off such a look of superior disdain.

"Nott, Hortensia," McGonagall called out.

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Pucey, Adrian."

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Spinnet, Alicia."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Warrington, Hubert."

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Weasley, Fred." Harish perked up at this. Fred sat down on the stool and jammed on the hat excitedly. After a few moments he started to look angry and then his expression changed to one of concentration.

Finally after a while, the hat called out, "SLYTHERIN!" and Fred hopped up looking pleased with himself and ran over to join Harish.

"Weasley, George."

"Oh fine; SLYTHERIN!"

"Great job mate!" Fred slapped him on the back as he sat down. They looked over at the Gryffindor table where Percy and another redhead even older than him were sitting with dumbfounded expressions.

"Look at their faces!" George exclaimed with glee.

"Percy looks like he's trying to decide whether he should be mad" Fred started, stroking a fake beard.

"Or confused." George added.

"So, who is that other fellow with him?" Harish asked.

"Charlie," Fred said.

"Sixth year," proclaimed George.

"How many brothers do you two have?"

"Four,"

"Or five counting me" Fred exclaimed.

"Oh I never count _you_. You're much too important to be a measly _brother_."

"Really? 'Cause—

"Guys!" Harish exclaimed.

"Yeees?" they asked together.

"Stop bantering and tell me about your brothers."

"Oh, well first there's Bill."

"He's graduated."

"Then there's Charlie,"

"World's best seeker—

"—Percy"

"The perfect one." They chorused together.

But suddenly the last person was sorted and they never did get to continue, for enormous amounts of food appeared, and no teenage boy could keep talking and ignore food when hunger had been gnawing at them all afternoon.

When everyone had eaten their fill Dumbledore gave the announcements, introducing the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Blackthorn. Then they were ushered off to their dormitories in the dungeons.

Down, down, down they climbed until at last they reached their common room. There were green couches and the room had an underwater feel to it. The floors were black, and there was a fire crackling on the back wall. Dull light shimmered off of the walls and bounced around the room. They figured it was most likely under the lake. One boy swore he saw a giant, ghostly tentacle drift by a window. They went down to the boys dormitory and settled in for the night.

" _Master, I like it down here"_

" _So do I, Isis."_ He replied to his snake, starting to drift off into sleep.

"Whassat?" George asked.

"Nothing. Just telling my pet goodnight."

"Eh?" Fred asked groggily.

"Goodnight." And he rolled over and instantly falling asleep.

* * *

 **Review people! I really would like to know if there's anything I need to fix just...tell me nicely**

 **TTFN!**


	5. Part 1: Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **Read and enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter Five: Oh, Sweet Revenge**

The three boys ran down empty hallways late for their first class of potions. "I'm so sick of Peeves! What do you think Snape will do?" Harish asked as they flew down three flights of stairs.

"Dunno, Charlie always—"

"—says that Snape is really strict but not always with his own house."

"So really it depends on what kind of mood he's in."

They walked into the dungeon and saw Snape hovering over a boy's melted form of a cauldron. _"Uh, oh."_ Harish quietly exclaimed in Parseltongue. Fred and George, the only ones within earshot of his comment, gave him odd looks.

"You three! Why are you late?" Snape asked his greasy hair hanging down in clumps.

"Peeves—" George was saying.

"He locked us in a filthy little _closet_!" Harish interrupted.

"We've already missed Charms!" Fred exclaimed.

"Alohamora wouldn't even work!" George sounded frantic.

"A _CLOSET_!" Harish exclaimed.

"Take a seat. NOW!" Snape snapped at them, not wanting to hear any more of their story. Instantly the three boys sat down at a table together. At least he didn't take any points.

Harish's mind began to wander to their breakfast as Snape went on about a potion that Harish had already read all about. They were sitting in the Great Hall eating as Percy and Charlie made their way over to them.

" _Mother will be so ashamed of you," Percy had said with his nose stuck in the air, "when she finds out that you were sorted into Slytherin."_

" _Well isn't—_

" _That wonderful,"_

 _Percy was about to say something else when Harish stood up, "I think that they will do well in Slytherin." He had said, "I do not think that it's right for you to look at your brothers with scorn just because they were sorted into your rivaling house. It is very foolish and silly."_

 _Percy glared at him. No one had ever called him foolish. He harrumphed and pranced off to the Gryffindor table. Fred let off a low whistle._

" _Thanks buddy." George said to Harish sincerely._

" _But… why did you do it?" Charlie asked._

 _The twins just grinned at him slyly, and sensing that they weren't going to reply, he left as well._

Then, of course, they were walking down the corridor, Fred and George planning a prank on Percy, and Peeves had shoved them into a broom closet.

Now as he emerged from his thoughts he noticed that the twins were still looking at him oddly. He raised an eyebrow, questioning them silently.

"You never said—" George started.

"That you were a parselmouth!" Fred exclaimed.

"Well, I didn't find it essential. I'm technically the heir of Slytherin and that normally doesn't bode well."

The twins were now openly gaping.

"Don't look at me like that! I'm not really as prejudice as some. My father is the heir of Slytherin and I am his heir."

"Yes, but—"

"Slytherin's heir actually murdered someone. The school—"

"Was almost shut down!"

"And now we get to the technicalities." Harish sighed. "That was not my father. That was an imposter, and that's all I'm saying because that's all I know."

He really didn't want others to think badly of him because of his father. A lot of people would freak out if he went around stating that his father was the heir of Slytherin, and that always meant that they would figure out that he had murdered someone when he was only sixteen.

The rest of the class he spent immersed in his thoughts as he brewed his potion. The class went by quickly, ending with Snape pointing out how well his potion looked. Harish was smug. Of course his potion was perfect—he had been tutored by his father for the past four years, and no child of Lord Voldemort could be anything less than perfect.

 _HARISH-LIKES-BOOKS—NERD!_

Snape looked at the Blake boy again. He really did look familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on where he had seen him. The boy was lounging easily in his chair adding ingredients into his potion as needed. He had a look of boredom and arrogance in his eyes. Otherwise, his face was arranged in a polite mask.

Snape smirked as the cheeky brat commented on one of the directions he had left on the board. The boy mentioned that the step had been written wrong with a hint of disdain in his voice, but it made Snape proud. He always did that to pick out the potential potion makers. This boy obviously knew some things about potion brewing. The Professor wondered if the child had been privy to earlier tutoring. Blake was just too good to _not_ have had prior instruction. He sighed and decided to give up trying to figure out who the child looked like.

 _SNAPE-IS-STUMPED—WHAT-WHAT!_

Molly Weasley was standing in the kitchen, fixing dinner. She was chopping vegetables as the dishes were washing themselves in the sink. Ginny was standing by the icebox, getting out of the rest of the ingredients. Molly looked up as a Hogwarts owl swooped in.

"A letter from Hogwarts already?" She asked with concern, "I hope that one of the boys hasn't already gotten in trouble." She took the letter from it and started reading. Ginny, who was helping her out, watched as Molly's eyes zipped back and forth across the page. A frown furrowed between her eyes and her mouth fell open in shock. After a minute of staring dumbfounded at the letter, Ginny's mother ran to the fire, flew down some Floo Powder and yelled, "Arthur get in here, now!"

Seconds later, Arthur, tall and balding, spun out of the green flames. "What is it? I was working…" he asked, but trailed off as Molly shoved the letter under his nose. He read it more slowly, but his face had turned white, and his mouth was open in shock as well.

"What _is_ it?" eight-year-old Ginny asked, furiously stamping her foot in impatience.

Her parents, however, ignored her and started mumbling to each other. Molly set the letter down on the table, sat down, and put her hand up to her face. Ginny, seeing her chance, snatched up the letter and began to read it.

 _Dear Mum and Dad_ , it read.

 _I am so sorry to tell you this, but before you read this letter, you'd better sit down. As you know, Fred and George were sorted this evening, and I regret to tell you that they are both in Slytherin. They have befriended a boy named Harish Blake (also in Slytherin) who I believe may have coaxed them into forcing the hat to sort them there._

 _Your dutiful son,_

 _Percy._

Ginny actually giggled. This sounded like something the twins would do. She wondered who this Harish Blake was though.

Ron, her brother, who was a year older than her, suddenly bounded into the kitchen. "When's dinner? I'm hungry!" he whined.

Then his eyes fell upon his dad, who was back early. Then, his mom, who was sitting slumped in a chair. Finally, he noticed Ginny, holding a letter.

"Let me see that!" Ron said, snatching it out of Ginny's hands. After he had read it, his eyes narrowed in distaste. So Fred and George, the traitors, were sorted into Slytherin and it was all this Harish Blake's fault. He was probably the son of a Death Eater or something. Ron wondered how the twins could have been led onto the wrong path.

 _:p ANGRY-FACES—PREJUDICE-RONNIKINS d:_

After Potions ended, the boys ran (under the persuasion of Harish) to the staffroom to find Professor Flitwick and explain why they weren't there for their first class.

"Professor Flitwick?" Harish asked as they entered the room.

"Yes, Mr Blake?"

"We want to apologize for missing your class," he replied nudging the twins painfully in the ribs.

"Yeah," they said in unison.

"Not that we had—"

"Much of a choice in it."

"Peeves locked us in a closet," Harish explained.

Flitwick's eyes narrowed. "I need to be having a talk with the Bloody Baron. It's already bad enough that he antagonizes the teachers and students, but recently he's locked seven different students into various closets. Maybe the Baron can straighten him back out again…"

The three boys looked at each other in disbelief, relieved that Flitwick had believed him. Harish gave a start as Flitwick walked out of the room.

"Professor!" Harish shouted.

"Hmm?" the tiny professor hummed, stopping and turning back to the three boys.

"What about our homework?"

"Oh, yes! Just read the lesson on Levitation Charms and write six inches on it." And he hustled off to find the Bloody Baron.

Just as they were about to head out as well, Professor Blackthorn bent over and began coughing really hard. Harish stopped and looked at him for a minute.

"Are you all right, sir?" he asked.

The middle-aged Professor nodded and stood up straight, wiping some sweat off of his forehead. "Yes, yes I'm fine."

"Okay," he said, not really convinced, but not wanting to press any further. Finally, the three of them reluctantly left.

The boys then headed to the dungeons to get started on their homework (for Harish); the twins, however, were wanting to plan a prank on Percy, and Peeves if they got to him, and possibly Charlie, and the annoying, snotty kid in their dorm…

"Come on!" Harish sighed, "You have to do your homework!"

The twins started grumbling simultaneously about "too much work".

"Fine," Harish huffed, putting his quill to the piece of parchment. "It's not my problem if you make T's."

The twins sighed in unison and pulled out some parchment as well. Their mother would ground them for the rest of their lives if they made T's in their school work.

As soon as all three of them finished, the twins dragged Harish up to their dormitory forced him to sit on his bed.

"Now, Harish," Fred began.

"We know how childish you think—"

"Pranking is. But we're—"

"Going to change that today."

"You are going to help us—"

"To prank Percy, whether you—"

"Like it or not." Harish sighed and picked at his sheets as the twins launched into their plan, often asking Harish for input.

 _DEVILISH-EVIL-GENIUSES—HE-HE-HE_

Percy woke up and rubbed his eyes. He blearily pulled on some clothes, squinting badly in the bright light. Then he combed his hair as he walked down to the Great Hall. At first, he didn't notice the people laughing and pointing, but soon he caught on that they were laughing at _him_.

"What _is_ it?" he snapped at his friends, who were doubled over in laughter. Someone walked past their table and smacked his on the back of the head. Seeing his aggravation, one of his friends handed him a mirror. Everything he had on; his hair, his robes, and even his shoes, were dyed green and silver. He looked down at the front of his neon-green shirt.

It read: _I am a stuck-up, good-for-nothing, judgemental idiot_.

He twisted it around to look at the dark green and grey striped back. It read: _Slap, punch or kick me. I'm a halfwit dunce; I'd love any of them_.

Percy could feel his ears turning red. He growled dangerously. He knew exactly who did this, and they would get in so much trouble for this.

 _PERCY-REALLY-IS-A-DUNCE—AW-YEAH!_

The twins laughed with satisfaction. Harish bowed as the insults on Percy's shirt now also read: _I am a snitch, a tattle-tale, a bigmouth, a busybody, a blabbermouth, and a sleaze-monger_. It had been Harish's idea for the different variations of the word tattle tale to appear on the shirt if Percy had ratted them out, expecting that he would. He really had enjoyed this, although his father wouldn't be pleased, it had been fun.

The twins smirked at each other; they had finally wormed out the real Harish. Not the one hiding behind the glum, dull, and sceptical mask. They now saw childish glee in Harish's eyes. The twins knew that the professors would have to watch out. They now had three devilish pranksters to deal with for the next seven years. George came up with the ideas, Fred put the plot into action, and Harish supplied good spells and insults. Together, they were going to make their teachers' lives hell.

 _THE-TWINS-ARE-WORTHY-OF-SLYTHERIN—THANK-YOU-VERY-MUCH!_

The week went by quickly, with their first prank making it pretty interesting. With Percy showing up on the second full day of the term looking the way he had, everyone in Slytherin began to accept the twins.

Apparently, a prank of such magnitude on their own brother, no less, showed a sense of House pride which cut them some slack. A fourth-year boy even came up to the twins and told them that if they continued to act in such a Slytherin manner that they might be able to absolve themselves of their blood-traitor status.

Then, the next day, Percy entered the Great Hall, his front holding proof that he had ratted on his brothers. Professor McGonagall, luckily, had no way to prove that it was them. So, no points were taken, even though she did keep them behind after class to 'help' her sort through some homework. Percy's Slytherin get-up finally disappeared on Saturday, after five days of the prank. Several teachers were very impressed and Flitwick used them as an example when he was teaching his third year students Hair-Changing Charms. After the week going by without a hitch, the trio started plotting for their next prank.

Harish smiled, reading the letter he had just received from his father. It was written in response to the one Harish had sent to him about their prank. At first, his father had freaked out and started listing threats and reasons about how silly pranking was. Then he moved on to talk about how proud he was that Harish was showing "true Slytherin antics". Then, he gave them some advice on not being caught in the act of their pranks. The twins decided that they would like Harish's father very much.

"Your dad sounds—"

"Very interesting, Harish."

"No, he's usually really dull," Harish replied, surprised at what they had said.

"Well, at least he doesn't—"

"Rant on and on about—"

"Muggles. Non. Stop."

Harish merely grunted in reply and he started to stroke and talk to Isis.

"Don't do that," Fred said.

"Do what?"

"That," George replied. "You're stroking the snake."

"It's creepy," Fred added.

"Well, she was commenting on you two," Harish said acting as if it was perfectly normal to be talking to a snake.

"Oh?" the twins asked sarcastically.

Harish gritted his teeth, "She was saying tha-that you were doing me some good." After a pause he clarified, "Loosening me up."

The twins looked from him, to Isis, then to each other. Then, after a pause, the both started laughing.

"Come on!" George said, punching his arm.

"Laugh! It'll do you some good," Fred said, taking George's lead and punching Harish's other arm.

Harish shoved them both face down into their beds in retaliation. There was another pause before the three of them started laughing again.

 _HAPPY-HAPPY-HAPPY_

Dumbledore sat in the meeting with the faculty. He had observed Harish over the past week. In seeing Harish with a malicious glint in his eye, relishing in the prank they had pulled on Percy, he began to get worried.

How had this child taken hold of the Potter account? Only a direct descendant of the Potter line could have taken over that vault. He couldn't see how it was possible that this Slytherin brat could have possibly gotten a hold of it. There was no way on earth that he could be the Potter's heir. The child had a different surname for one thing. He sighed, his temples throbbing. He would think about it later.

The old man puzzled over it only half listening to the teachers remarking on what a prodigy the boy was. If he had been listening, the boy would have reminded him of a very similar student. Lord Voldemort, or Tom Riddle, as he had been known then, had seemed like a prodigy. He was charming and always did well in his school work. Harish was showing very similar traits to his 'father', but Dumbledore wasn't even paying close enough attention to notice.

 _UH-OH—DUMBLEDORE?_

The trio were in an empty hallway with their arms full of different coloured dung-bombs. George had come up with a wonderful idea. He wanted to see what would happen if they changed the colour of the brown dung-bombs. He believed that the smoke would be multi-coloured. They had several black, green, and blue ones, but the prize of them all was the one that Harish had so cleverly enlarged and dyed multiple colours.

They decided to set that one off first, so Harish lit it and placed it in the centre of the hallway. After a second, blue, green, and red smoke shot out of the grand-dung. It smelled of rotten eggs and they whooped and cheered at the spectacular show. After the smoke cleared, they were about to set off another one, when they saw Filch at the other end of the hall. They froze. Fred had earlier said that if they were caught, that they should not try to escape until later, so that they could have a look in Filch's office. They were sure that there would be some valuable knick-knacks which had been confiscated.

So the three followed Filch along, half listening to Filch wheeze on about hanging children by their thumbs in the dungeons. They were led to his office in silence.

"Sit!" Filch barked. The three sat on a bench across from Filch's desk. Harish looked around the office as Filch listed their crimes. Immediately, Harish spotted a drawer labelled: _Confiscated and Highly Dangerous_. Harish discreetly nudged Fred and nodded towards the drawer. Fred then nodded to George, and before Filch could list their punishments, George lit a black dung-bomb and threw it at Filch.

Immediately, Harish flew towards the drawer aided by Fred and the two of them opened it and pulled out a heavy piece of parchment. Then, they grabbed George and fled from the room. They ran as fast as they could for the dungeons, hearing Filch screech angrily behind them. They finally lost him as they sought refuge in their dormitory.

 _COME-BACK-HERE-YOU-ROBBING-FILTH!_

 _Filch! I thought WE did line-breaks!_

 _*shove*_

 _All fixed, Fred._

 _Thank you, George._

 _YAY!—THE-TWINS-OVERTAKE-THE-SOAP-GREMLIN!_

* * *

 **Review! One question for ya.**

 **What do you think the parchment is? :) evil smirk...mwahaha**


	6. Part 1: Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Six: Enter the Marauders—The Best People In the World**

Harish pulled their prize out of his pocket to examine. It was a thick, folded piece of parchment. Fred and George peered at it beside Harish, wondering how to make it work.

"Hey!" Fred exclaimed suddenly, "Dad always says something specific—"

"When he works with stuff like this! Yeah! Great going Fred!" he nodded to the parchment. "You can do the honours."

"I, Fred Weasley, would like you to reveal your mechanics."

" _Mr Moony does not hand out valuable information so freely."_

The three of them sighed in disappointment, before more words scrawled across the page.

" _Mr Prongs concurs with that notion and would like to propose a test."_

" _Mr Padfoot would like to know what the number one rule is for pranksters."_

" _And Mr Wormtail would like to know where Mr Weasley's loyalties lie."_

The boys sat for a moment in silence pondering their 'quiz'. Finally, after a couple of seconds, George suggested, "To cause mayhem?"

"To get revenge," Fred listed.

"To get up to no good in every way!" Harish exclaimed.

"Hmmm," Fred hummed looking at the second question. "My loyalties lie to myself and my mischief."

"You can list them Harish!" Fred and George announced together.

"Okay," Harish put his wand to the paper. "Harish Blake, Fred Weasley, and George Weasley say that our loyalties lie to ourselves and our mischief, and the number one rule of any prankster is to cause mayhem, get revenge, and to get up to no good in every way."

The words instantly disappeared and new script formed on the page: _Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs are proud to present the Marauder's Map_.

Underneath it _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_ appeared and as soon as they read it, it vanished again.

Under where the passcode had been the words _Mischief Managed_ appeared and disappeared in the same fashion.

They unfolded the parchment to see a large map of Hogwarts. Soon the boys were on a bed, ogling at the map. "Wow look!" George exclaimed pointing at their dormitory. "It even show us on the map! See look. Fred Weasley, George Weasley, and… What is that?"

"Huh?" Fred asked as Harish said, "What's the matter?"

" _Look_ ," George said, pointing at their dormitory on the map. "We're the only three in here. It has Fred and I labelled, but it just has a blob where you are."

Harish squinted at the map, "That _blob_ looks like two names on top of each other."

"Maybe you're sitting on someone invisible," Fred said with a hint of doubt in his voice.

"Yeah, walk around some or something," George said.

Harish got up and walked around the room, feeling slightly foolish. When he sat back down Fred said, "Nope. It—"

"Still looked like that while you were moving."

Harish grunted and narrowed his eyes, trying to read what it said.

"I can make out Harish, but why is it on top of another name?" Harish asked.

"I can tell that the first letter in the other last name is a 'P'," George said.

"If you lean back like this," Fred said, "and tilt your head to the side a little, it looks kind of like it says Haisly Pinklace."

Harish snorted in laughter. George, however, leaned back and said "Yeah, it kind of does. I can certainly pick out an 'h' a 'y' and a 'p'."

"Maybe we should just ask the map," Harish suggested.

"How are we supposed to do that? _Oh, map, can you explain the blob on my friend's name?_ " George asked mimicking a girly, confused tone.

"Or we could somehow get it to show us the codes for the map." Fred said, suppressing laughter.

"Yeah," Harish said, remembering a book he had read earlier that summer, "Things like this…they have to have a base or a foundation. That would be the individual spells they use to make it do all of this. Then, there would be the structure, which would be every room, every hallway, and every name."

"That sounds really complicated…How would we find one name?"

"Locating spells," Harish said in a dismissive tone.

Suddenly Adrian Pucey, Marcus Belby, Terrance Higgs, and Hubert Warrington entered the dormitory, ending their little pow-wow. Harish and the others just decided (quietly; as Harish stuffed the map under his pillow) that if they wanted to find Harish, they'd just look for the 'blob' and would stop puzzling over it for now. George figured that it would make him easier to find.

 _THE-BLOB—DUN-DUN-DUN!_

Voldemort had had a week just as interesting as the boys. He had roused his Death Eaters that were working in the ministry. Nearly all of them had a heart-attack when he introduced himself. Some of them even accused him of being an imposter. Voldemort had to crucio some of them to get them to listen to him (which he didn't want to have to resort to doing, but it made them follow him more willingly).After that, Lucius arrived and backed him up, saying that he was the first Voldemort contacted, and how Voldemort had gone into hiding to lull the public into a false sense of security.

Then, 'Anata Blake' got that letter from Dumbledore. Dumbledore had asked politely how Harish had gotten a hold of the vault, but Voldemort wasn't about to tell that two-faced old man.

All he replied in return was, "He is the heir of the house of Potter". He was satisfied to know that he had not only aggravated Dumbledore, but he had outsmarted him as well. The old man still couldn't figure out who Harish really was, not even to mention figuring out the fake backstory Voldemort had set up. He felt really accomplished.

 _VOLDIE-SMIRKS—Mwah-HA-HA!_

Harish sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He looked around the partially dark room. Dark blue light was shimmering on the walls. Judging by the lack of light, he figured that the sun hadn't quite risen yet. He pulled on a bed-robe and left the dungeons for the Owlry. Maybe he'd be able to coax an owl down, so that he could write a letter to his father. Normally they avoided him because of Isis, and only occasionally let him attach a letter to their leg.

He looked out over the grounds. Every day it was getting slightly cooler, and Halloween was approaching fast. He couldn't wait for the feast. He had often heard stories about it from Fred and George.

"Oh, come on!" he exclaimed, waving a treat in front of an owl's nose. "She won't eat you! All I want to do is mail a letter to my father!" but the owl remained resolute, so he sighed and slunk out, heading for the dungeons.

As he rounded a corner, the twins jumped out from behind a suit of armour yelling, "Hello mate!"

Harish shrieked in surprise. After he recovered, he punched the two giggling morons. "Don't _do_ that!" then he glanced at what they were holding; it was the Marauders Map. "Plus, it's rude to stalk people."

"Oh, and you—"

"Would know all about that—"

"Wouldn't you? Mr—"

"Manners expert."

Harish sighed, "Yes, I would. I grew up being taught simple manners. Something you two lack."

"Yeah, we ditched manners—"

"A long time ago."

"You know?"

"We've been thinking—"

"That we should plan a nice big prank for Halloween."

"It's only a week away—"

"So we should get—"

"Started."

 _BEWARE—CREEPY-AMBUSHES_

The trio were consulting the Map about how to get into the kitchens. Upon seeing his little figure on the map tickle the pear in the painting, Fred walked forward and tickled the pear. It giggled and hardened into a handle. George pulled on the handle and opened the door.

They were greeted by a fairly large room that was warm and glittering. Hanging from the ceiling were shiny bronze pots and pans. In the corner, a merry fire was crackling. As they entered the room, they were nearly smothered by a great tidal wave of house elves.

Each one was wearing a neat, white towel around their waist. They came, swarming up offering them cakes and candies. Harish even saw one house elf brandishing a silver platter with a whole turkey on it.

"Leave it to me," Harish whispered to the twins. "I know how to handle these guys."

Harish then stepped forward, flashing a brilliant smile at the elves. "Hello, um—My friends and I wanted to come here to thank you for all of your hard work. The food is delicious and we find that all of our rooms are spotless."

The elves started falling over one another shouting "Thank you sir" and "You're welcome sir".

The twins caught on and George said, "Yeah, the other day I err—went into the bathroom, and the whole place was so spotless, I could see my reflection on the toilet."

"Lovely," Fred said sarcastically.

Harish shot them a look before continuing, "We just wanted to ask one teensy favour—" he paused to let the elves ramble "Anything you want sir!" and "We would for you sir!" before saying, "Well, we wanted to plan something special for our friends on Halloween. Could you please not pick up the Great Hall until right before the Halloween Feast tomorrow?" he asked, feigning boyish pleading and politeness. It of course worked, and the three of them stuffed their pockets with the last sweets, and exited the Kitchens hearing "We will do that sir!" and "Come back soon sir!" from the elves. Harish was satisfied that their prank to tomorrow would go very well.

 _WHAT-DOES-THE-ELF-SAY—I-LOVE-I-LOVE-I-LOVE-YOU_

"Happy Halloween everybody!" Fred and George yelled blowing foghorns.

All of the boys sat up, grumbling.

"What's with the foghorns?" Adrian grumbled, laying back down and squashing his pillow over his ears.

"Yeah, why are you waking us up at five in the morning?" Marcus asked bluntly.

"Because, little children," Fred said, causing a round of more grumbling from the other boys in their year.

"Halloween is the best pranking holiday—"

"Next to April Fool's Day of course."

"That one's the absolute best, because it's our birthday!"

Harish smirked as he watched the other boys in their dormitory. This was definitely not all they had planned for today and the others should just get used to being pranked.

They all walked down to the Great Hall together, and when the other boys saw it, they just gave up, knowing that this would be a very long day.

There were purple, orange, and black streamers everywhere. They were almost completely covering the walls, there were some that had fallen onto the tables and floors, and there were even streamers hanging from the floating candles. If a student stepped on a certain brick on the floor in between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables, it would start singing, or shouting things about Halloween.

In History of Magic, instead of textbooks, the twins put _The History of All Hallows Eve_ on every desk. Harish, with the help of the others, filled the classrooms with bats. Then, when it was time for the feast, everything magically disappeared, and all of the students went down to the Great Hall to enjoy a magnificent feast. The trio had the most wonderful day, and they had already begun planning to top this performance next year.

 _FUN-FUN—APPLE-BUN_

It was now late November and everyone were sitting in the Great Hall for breakfast. Harish was sitting in the middle of the first years flanked by the ever present Fred and George. They were all eating and watching the owls swoop in and deliver the mail. Fred and George had received letters and parcels from their mum.

Harish certainly hadn't been expecting his father to send him anything, and he was surprised to see a large smoky coloured owl land elegantly in front of him and stick out it's leg. "Hey, Augustus," he said to his father's owl, feeding it a bit of bacon. He took the letter from him and watched the owl fly off.

He had sent a letter to his father asking him if he go to the Weasleys' for the holidays. He hadn't really expected his father to say yes, but he unrolled the letter anyway and started reading.

 _Dear Harish,_

 _I am happy to say that I would love for you to go over to your friends' house. I think it would be a wonderful experience for you. I will have the people I work with popping into the manor all throughout the holidays, and I don't think you'd like to be around a boring group of adults all Christmas time. They are grumpy no-nonsense kind of people, and I think it would be best for you to stay at your friends' house the first week and then come home to celebrate Christmas with me._

 _From your very busy father,_

 _Anata Blake_

"Hey guys," Harish said, "it looks like I'll be able to come over to your house for the holidays.

"Really?" Fred asked, surprised.

"That's great!" George exclaimed, and the two on them started babbling on about how the first thing they were going to do was to play Quidditch.

Harish let their conversation wash over him as he remembered the first time he had ever flown. It had been wonderful!

" _Father, can I get flying lessons with Draco? Pleease?" eight-year-old Harish had asked Voldemort, he and Draco sporting wonderfully crafted puppy eyes._

 _His father had been about to say something, when Malfoy Sr. had walked up. "Oh, let the boy have some fun!" he had said, but Harish had noticed that the man had stayed an arm's length away from his father. Everyone knew what a temper he could get._

" _Yes, you can go play Quidditch with Draco."_

" _Yes!" Harish and Draco shouted, before running off to Draco's tutor._

" _Harish's father said that he could take the lessons!" Draco exclaimed._

" _That's wonderful! Now Harish, you need to grip the broom like this. The grip is important…"_

 _But Harish wasn't listening. As he swung onto the broom, it felt as if something inside him knew exactly what to do. He kicked off and was greeted by the most wonderful sensation. The wind tossed his hair about and he knew that this was where he belonged. He zipped all about the stadium, and he was in the process of doing a loop, when he felt something escape from his pocket. He watched helplessly as his favourite blue pen hurtled towards the ground._

 _Not even thinking, he dove after it, the wind whistling in his ears as he sped up. He felt his hand grasp around it and he levelled out his broom, just before he could have crashed. Then he landed gently and trotted back over to where the instructor was standing dumbstruck._

" _Why, you're a natural! I've never seen quite a dive performed by an eight-year-old! You should go for Seeker! That was amazing!"_

 _Harish blushed on the outside, but on the inside he smirked. Of course it was perfect._ _ **He**_ _was perfect and they should expect nothing less than that._

"Harish, come on!" one of the twins said rousing him from his thoughts.

"Okay," and he was led along to their classes. He was looking forward to the break. He loved playing Quidditch and wouldn't mind meeting the rest of their family.

 _HARISH-CAN'T-DENY-HIS-REAL-FATHER'S-GENES—QUIDDITCH-GENIUS!_

Time passed unreasonably slow for the trio of pranksters. They got a few pranks in, each one becoming more festive than the last. They trudged through their school work. Every day the load of work got larger. Finally, there were only two weeks left until the holidays. Then, one week. Then five days. Four days, three, two one.

* * *

 **So! Tell me what you think!**

 **Here's my new question: How do you think Ron will react to the new and improved Harry?**

 **TTFN! Ta-ta for now!**


	7. Part 1: Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.**

 **Hello everyone, here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

 **Chapter Seven: Harish's Quiet and Totally Not Awkward Holiday**

 **(hear the sarcasm in my voice)**

Harish lay in bed, semi-awake, feeling the cold bite down on his ears and the top of his head. He didn't want to get up. It was so warm and comfortable, and he didn't want to have to go and do school work.

Then, he sat up abruptly as he remembered. It was Christmas break, he didn't _have_ school work! He stood up, shivering and changed into a warm sweater as fast as he could. Then, he took his small bag and stuffed it in his pocket. Harish had gotten Professor Flitwick to put an extension charm on the bag and he had used that to pack up the things he would need for his week at the Burrow. He trotted into the common room and settled himself on the couch in front of the fire, letting the warmth wash over him.

After who knows how long, Fred and George bounded up the steps, into the common room and they trotted over to where Harish was sitting. "Ah I see someone's already—"

"Bright and bushy tailed this morning," the twins said happily.

"You ready to go then?" Harish asked them.

"Yep! Fit as a fiddle—"

"And itching to go!"

Harish just shook his head as they headed down to breakfast, the twins falling into step on either side of him. Harish thought it was funny that, with the twins' beater build, most people believed them to be Harish's body guards. The twins seemed to find equally amusing and if they saw someone ogling at them, they would grin at each other before shooting menacing glares at the offender. They seemed to find it fun to play the bodyguards.

After they finished breakfast, they headed for Hogsmeade station and climbed aboard the beautiful red engine.

Hours later, after lots of sweets, jokes, and even pranks on other people going home for the holidays, they arrived in London. Harish and the twins clambered off the train and wandered over to where Percy and Charlie were standing. There, there were four other people. A woman, short and stout was kissing the boys. Standing next to her, with a hand on her shoulder, was a tall, balding man. Accompanying them were two children, a young boy and a girl who was even younger, and they all had flaming red hair.

"Wow," Harish said as they walked up. "You have a really big family."

"Yeah," Fred said eying the rest of his family. "There's—"

"Nine of us."

Harish whistled, "We only have me and my dad."

Just then, the woman, Mrs Weasley, noticed Harish and came bustling over. "Oh, and you must be Harish! We've heard so much about you. Come on, we'd best get going. It's so nice to finally meet you Harish dear," he didn't have any warning as she suddenly pulled him into an embrace. As the family walked off, Harish lagged behind, rubbing his arms.

"She does that—"

"To everybody."

Harish just shook his head and followed them.

 _TOO-MANY-PEOPLE—DON'T-TOUCH-ME!_

Harish smiled as they drove through the country, past some chickens, and stopped right outside of a building. There was a sign that said "The Burrow" outside of the rickety old house. Snow was piled up everywhere. There was a little tumbledown garage in a small yard. The base of the house looked like it had once been a rather large stone pigpen, with extra rooms added here and there until it was several stories high and so crooked that it looked like the only way it could be standing was if it was held up by magic. Four or five red chimneys were on top of the roof and several chickens that had gotten out of the barn were huddled in the warmth by the door.

"Come on, you'll be sleeping in our room," Fred said showing Harish the door.

"Mum moved a bed in there, it's a bit cramped—"

"But there's still enough space for the three of us."

"We know it's not much—"

"Compared to that manor of yours—"

"But it's home."

"No," Harish said honestly, not wanting the twins to feel bad for themselves. "This is much better than a huge, silent manor. Here there are people to play with!"

The twins grinned at him appreciatively. Harish could seem a bit cold at times, but they knew that he was really a good person on the inside.

 _YAY!—HAPPY-HAWISH!_

Ron looked out the window and watched his brothers play Quidditch. He had been invited but he had declined and stomped up to his room. He didn't want to play with some snot nosed Slytherin brat, whether he was friends with the twins or not. He had heard Fred and George talking about how Harish lived in a manor. He probably had lots of money and got whatever he wanted. It just wasn't fair.

He knew that one day, the twins would regret befriending the boy, when he ran off to You-Know-Who and all of the other Death Eaters. He glared out the window. He had seen the way Fred and George follow Harish around like he was their little lord. If Voldemort never came back like Dumbledore said he would, the older boy would probably become the world's next Dark Lord. He growled and flung himself on his bed, pouting at the ceiling.

 _BAD-ICKLE-RONNIKINS—HE-GOING-TO-GET-BIT-IN-THE-BUTT_

Harish sat at dinner still flanked by the twins. He swallowed heavily and glanced around. It was the second full day he had been here and so far he had managed to charm the parents and the girl. Though he seemed to have charmed Ginny a little too much. She was sitting across from him, staring at him with a starry eyed expression on her face. Ron was next to her, shooting Harish menacing glares. On the other side of George was Percy. He was obviously staring at Harish and the younger boy could tell easily that Percy was suspicious of him. He looked up at Mrs Weasley who was trying to convince him that he was 'as thin as a stick' and needed fourths on turkey. Harish glanced at Ginny again. He gritted his teeth and resigned to staring at his plate.

After dinner, he went up to the twins room, with them in tow. He sighed and sank onto his bed. "Yuck," was all he could manage.

The twins burst out laughing. "I think that Ginny—"

"Wants your autograph!"

Harish glared at them. "This certainly is the most interesting holiday I have ever had, I'll have to give you that. First, there's Ron who seems to hate my guts. Percy who obviously believes that it's all my fault that you're in Slytherin. Ginny, who was literally drooling over me. I'm serious! She was drooling all over her food!"

Fred and George were bent double and clutching their sides from laughter at this point. George looked up, wiping tears from his eyes. "She did—seem t-to have a th-thing for you—d-didn't she?" he asked, in between fits of giggles.

Harish rolled his eyes. "Yeah, it's hilarious."

That only seemed to make them laugh harder.

Harish couldn't help but laugh as well. The twins looked really funny bent double with their faces bright red from laughter. He liked his friends, they were nice to him.

Draco was nice, but the Malfoy heir was nine; the boy just didn't get it. He wondered what they would do if—no, _when_ they figured out that his father was Lord Voldemort. He didn't want them to start hating him because of that. Harish decided that he would have to slowly ease them towards the 'dark side'.

When the three of them had calmed down, Fred asked, "Don't you think it's weird that your dad let you come here?"

"Yeah," Harish replied, remembering his father's reply.

"I wonder who 'the people he works with' are," George said thoughtfully.

By Friday, things had cooled off and the Weasleys presented him with yet another surprise.

"We have decided to celebrate Christmas slightly early so that the twins and everyone can give you your presents before you leave tomorrow," Mrs Weasley was saying.

He then followed them to their sitting room and plopped himself on a chair. The twins went first and handed him two identically wrapped presents. Harish ripped off the paper on the one from Fred to reveal a set of Quidditch supplies and several dung-bombs. He also received a book on how to jinx family members without them noticing and several screaming yo-yo's from George.

Harish thanked them and handed them their presents. He laughed as they ripped off the paper to reveal similar presents. Harish hadn't really known what he should get them, so he stuck with Quidditch and pranking supplies. Though he had gotten George a book on how to evade getting in trouble and for Fred, a book that had 256 pages' worth of pranking ideas.

Then, Mrs Weasley came forward and handed him a beautifully wrapped box. Harish took off the wrapping paper and pulled off the lid of the box. Inside, there was a sweater and a tin of brownies. He held up the sweater to inspect it. It was green with a silver H stitched in the centre of it.

"Yeah, she makes—"

"Those for everyone. We—"

"Get them every year. You'll like—"

"It. They're awfully warm."

Mrs Weasley beamed at them. It was so nice to hear them say that. Ron, on the other hand, always complained. Maroon was cheaper; he'd just have to deal with it.

Harish smiled at her and tugged the sweater over his head. The twins were right, it was warm. Then his smile vanished. According to Mrs Malfoy it was bad form to accept a gift if you hadn't gotten the giver of the gift a present as well.

"B-but," he stuttered at her, "I didn't get you any presents."

"Oh, don't worry dear," Molly said, thinking about how he was a sweet boy, "I don't mind. Children normally don't give gifts to their friend's parents. I'll get plenty of other presents."

Harish nodded, his face feeling hot. He hated feeling foolish.

"Now," Molly said, turning to the other children, "You may each open one present. Only one, mind you!" she added shaking her finger in their faces and putting her hands on her hips.

The others immediately crowded around and chose a gift. Ron grabbed the largest one he could get his hands on. Soon after, Ginny started whining that the present Ron had chosen had _her_ name on it.

The twins glanced at her before smirking at Harish.

"We'd better go." Fred said.

"Soon this will be turned into a free-for-all." George finished.

Harish nodded and followed them, deciding he would rather return to their room than stay in the same area as Ron and Ginny, whose faces were growing increasingly red as they argued.

Harish and the twins entered the room and sat on their beds. They talked for a little while and played some Exploding Snap. Eventually, after the long day, Harish fell asleep, sprawled across the bed.

The twins smirked at each other and silently stood up. They had tried to snoop in Harish's trunk once when they were bored and found that it had been spelled to not let people snoop in it. Ever since then, they had been curious what Harish kept in there.

Now, Harish was asleep and he didn't have his trunk. Harish had a bag that he had gotten Professor Flitwick to cast _one_ spell on. They knew what was on it too; they were there when Professor Flitwick spelled the little bag for Harish.

Fred kneeled at the end of Harish's bed and pulled out the bag out from underneath it. George was soon at his side and the two of them dug through Harish clothes and pulled out a leather bound book. They grinned at having found one of their friend's cherished possessions.

It was Harish's drawing journal. They knew how their friend liked to draw in this journal when he was bored. He had never let them look at what he had drawn, but that had only sparked their curiosity. George opened it to a random page. On the paper was a picture of what looked kind of like the Dark Mark. There was a skull with Nagini coming out of its mouth.

Fred snatched the book from George and turned the page. They gasped. There was someone with long blonde hair in Death Eater's robes and mask. They knew of one person that Harish saw often, who had long blonde hair and that was Lucius Malfoy. The twins also knew that Lucius was once a Death Eater and that their dad suspected him of having dark artefacts in his house.

Quietly, Fred closed the book and stuck it underneath the clothes where it had been. Then, the two of them sat on their beds and stuck their heads together, whispering.

"Why does he have pictures of Death Eaters in his notebook?" Fred asked.

"And the skull!" George exclaimed quietly, "He's showed us pictures of his dad's snake Nagini before. Why was it in that picture?"

"Maybe his dad's a Death Eater," Fred replied.

"Hmm. Harish doesn't seem that bad, and his dad sounded pretty funny too. I don't know about Dumbledore though. Something about him seemed fishy."

"I know what you mean. The other day, he was staring at Harish in this way… He looked like he wanted to hurt him or something."

"Let's just act normal and try to figure out some more about the three of them." George said and his twin nodded.

 _POTS-OF-FISH-BREWING—DEATH-EATER_ _ **/**_ _DUMBLEDORE-ALERT_

The next morning, at precisely ten o' clock, Harish's father apparated into the Weasley's sitting room. Everyone took in the man's dark appearance, his tall figure, and his pale pointed pace. The twins noticed how much Harish resembled his father. He had brown hair and the same facial structure as the superior looking man. Immediately the two boys hopped up and started shaking Mr Blake's hands.

"It's so nice to finally meet you!" they chorused.

When they had sat back down, the man turned to Harish and said, "Harish, it is time to go now."

"Okay!" Harish chirped happily, gripping his father's forearm.

The man then turned to the senior Weasleys. "Thank you for the hospitality you have shown my son." He said just before they apparated back home.

"Did you miss me, father?" Harish asked, once they reappeared in Voldemort's study.

Voldemort looked at the boy with uncertainty. He did _not_ miss the boy… Did he? He opened his mouth, but for the first time he could remember, he had no idea what to say. He didn't want to have missed the boy, but he couldn't tell him that he hadn't missed him. His mind went blank and he began to panic, looking for a way out of this situation.

"Yes, I do believe I did," He heard, not sure whether the words had come out of his mouth or not. Then, he felt something in him, snap as he finally realized that he _had_ missed Harish.

He had grown accustom to always hearing the boy playing or reading, but this year, the manor had been completely silent. He watched the boy smile happily and walk away. How could he continue being a dark lord, if he felt _love_ for this boy! Dark lords don't _love_ people! He sat heavily in his desk and put his face in his hands. Why did he have affection for this child? He tried not to love the thing, but he couldn't help it.

He sighed. There were probably plenty of dark lords that had children that they cared for. Plus, the whole reason he had adopted the boy was so that he could use the boy's powers. Caring for Harish wouldn't harm his plans. It would just mean that he had a son. There was no problem with that.

 _AWWW—HAWISH-BROKE-VOLDIE—HE-BEEN-NICEFIED_

Christmas went off without a hitch and even though Harish had fun with his father, he couldn't wait to go back to school to see his friends again.

* * *

 **So, just to let you know, this story will have eight parts to it. One through seven are their years of Hogwarts and six and eight are about Harish as an adult. I follow the cannon plot as closely as possible, (as in major events still happen) but obviously some things will be different. Now some questions! How long do you think it will take for Dumbledore to find out who Harish is? I think Harish is thankful that he is not in the same year as Ron (ironic, I know). What are you thankful for?**

 **TTFN**


	8. Part 1: Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **This one, while short, is packed with action. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter Eight: Three Fishy Fish Thrown Into the Fire**

Dumbledore sat at the High Table, his eyes falling onto the Blake boy. It had been several weeks since the term had started. The boy turned to him and their eyes locked. When Harish broke the contact, Dumbledore sat straight up.

How could he not have noticed? It was so obvious. He walked to his office, not really paying attention and completely ignored Professor McGonagall when she asked him if he was alright. When he got to his office, he summoned a picture of Lily Potter. After examining her eyes, Harish's whole history seemed to fall into place.

Harish's eyes were shaped exactly like Lily's. Yes, the colour was lighter, but there was no doubt about it; he was her son. Everything made sense now. She must not have been quite as faithful as everyone had thought. Anata Blake had been a new arrival to Britain around the time of Harish's conception, and she would have been pregnant with Harry soon after.

James Potter had obviously wanted the boy to be their heir in case something happened to them and Harry couldn't take over the vault. Then, Anata must have fallen off the grid to save his son the shame of people knowing about his and Lily's indiscretion. It had worked though; no one (except for him, of course) suspected a thing.

He let his mind wander, since he had figured out the mystery of the boy. The old Death Eaters had been acting very lively this year. Dumbledore hoped that it didn't mean anything, but he should start preparing his plans just in case. Maybe, once the Death Eaters began to show activity again, he would start gathering the members of the Order. He knew that Voldemort wasn't dead. The man hadn't had enough human left in him to die. It was only a matter of time before he returned and resumed his work, and the Death Eaters were acting very suspicious.

The only problem was that Harry Potter was dead. Dumbledore had originally been planning to use that boy as their saviour, but the child had died, and Lily's love had failed him. He was sure that her sacrifice would've saved the boy. Nonetheless, he needed to find a new saviour and fast. The only other boy who could have been referred to in the prophecy was Neville Longbottom. He decided that he would have to start training the boy to get ready to the upcoming war that he was sure that was to come.

 _POOR-NEVILLE—HE-BEING-USED—HAWISH-WILL-SAVE-THE-DAY!_

 _(eventually)_

Harish was walking into the Slytherin common room calmly and slowed to a stop. His eyes swept the room and he immediately noticed that no one under third year was in the common room. There was a large cluster of sixth and seventh year boys blocking his path. All of them, he could tell, were children of Death Eaters.

The one that he recognized as Thorfinn Rowle's son stepped forward. He was tall and bulky, and (if Harish remembered correctly) he was a beater for their Quidditch team. "You have shamed Slytherin house by your sorting, Blake" Rowle said, snarling Harish's name and pinning him to the wall. "It will no longer be tolerated. A mudblood in Slytherin!" the older boy spat.

Harish narrowed his eyes. How dare they assume that he was a mudblood! He was the heir of Slytherin! Already having had enough, Harish pulled out his wand and shouted, "Repellere!"

A purple jet of light shot out of his wand and forced Rowle back so hard, that he skidded backwards across the room. Two of his cronies started shouting random hexes at him, but he used a well-cast protego and all of the hexes bounced around the room.

"Expulis Aruspice!" Rowle shouted as he regained his footing.

Harish's eyes widened as he ducked and the orange beam of light passed over his head. That spell would have caused his organs to come out and was certainly fateful.

"Lumos solem!" Harish said, blinding Rowle.

"Serpensortia!" he heard a voice shout out. Harish actually laughed. A mamba couldn't kill him!

" _Go, my friend,"_ he told the snake, _"Avenge the princce of snakesss…"_

Several people stopped casting spells when they saw the large snake turn around and head for the person who had cast the Serpensortia.

"E-e-expulso," the seventh year stuttered, exploding the snake.

One last person stepped forward and sent a hole blasting hex and a tickling charm at Harish. He evaded the hex, but got hit with the tickling charm. He let out infuriated giggles as invisible hands began to tickle him. He roared in anger at the humiliation when the charm wore off. As he began casting a spell he was angry, angrier than he had ever been in his entire life. His eyes flashed a bright emerald green for a second causing everyone to shudder, thinking of the Killing Curse.

"CRUCIO!"

Everyone stopped and stared in horror as the tough seventh year boy's screams echoed across the room. A few young, pale faces peeking out of the dormitories to investigate the noise. Satisfied that he had gotten everyone's attention, Harish released the older boy from the curse. He fell to his knees at Harish's feet, tears rolling down his face.

"I am Harish Blake, Heir of Slytherin and son of the Dark Lord Voldemort. Those who wish to challenge me, do so at your own risk."

 _DIIIIIEEEE!—OH-WHOOPS_

The twins, who were hiding in the corner closest to their dormitory, (they were planning on pranking Marcus) glanced at each other before they ran to their dormitory.

"He's Voldemort's son?!" they both exclaimed to each other as they plopped down on their beds.

"Voldemort was in our house!" Fred shouted.

"He shook my hand!" George said, starting to hyperventilate.

"He didn't seem that bad a guy." Fred said, remembering their friend's father at his brief visit.

"Yeah, he should be halfway decent if he raised a nice bloke like Harish."

"Maybe he's changed over the past ten years. I mean, he was stuck in a house with a little boy! That must have tamed him a little."

"Well, I don't care what mum says! I'm still gonna back Harish no matter what."

"Me too."

"This does—" George cut off as they heard a boy walking down the steps.

The boy turned out to be Harish.

"So," Fred started to say as Harish walked over to them and slammed moodily into his bed.

"Son of Lord Voldemort huh?" George finished. Both of them were wearing identical smirks.

Harish nodded, staring at the ceiling. He didn't want them to be mad with him. They were the only friends he had. He didn't want to see their faces.

"Where did you—"

"Learn the Cruciatus Curse?" the asked in chorus, eager expressions on their faces.

Harish sat up and looked at them. He was startled to see that they didn't sound mad at all; they just sounded excited.

"My Aunt Bella," he said as a wave of relief washed over him.

"I sure hope no one—"

"Heard those screams."

"You'd be expelled—"

"For sure!"

Harish smiled. "No, the whole Slytherin common room is warded to keep the sound in. You can only hear something if you are inside either the common room or the dormitories.

The twins nodded in relief. Then, the two red-heads giggled. They had just witnessed their friend use an Unforgivable, a curse that was banned, but they weren't shocked or scared at all. They didn't really feel any emotion. In their opinion, Harish deserved to use that curse because older wizards, who had six more years of experience than them, had used gruesome and even fatal spells. The seventh and sixth years were the ones who started the fight in the first place.

"Come on," Harish said suddenly. He hopped off of his bed and headed towards the Owlry.

"Where are we going?" the twins asked as they climbed up the many flights of stairs.

"To send a letter."

"You're ratting to—"

"Your dad, aren't you?"

"Yup," Harish said and the three of them smirked widely.

Once they got to the Owlry, Harish pulled out some parchment and a quill and stood writing a letter for a minute. Then, he coaxed an owl down and sent the letter off.

 _SOME-BRAT'S-GONNA-DIE-TODAY!_

Voldemort was sitting in the large sitting room when a Hogwarts owl swooped in the window. The brown bird of prey swooped into the room and landed on his knee, sticking its leg out. He took the letter from it, wondering what this could be about.

It read: _Dear Father,_

 _I am so sorry but I might have just let slip where all of Slytherin could hear that I am your son. I was walking into the common room when several older boys (Jugson, Rowle, Selwyn, Travers, and Gibbon) confronted me, accusing me of being a mudblood. Rowle shot an Entrail Expelling curse at me. I fought them back, crucioed Gibbon, and then told them about my heritage. I hope it doesn't hinder any of your plans._

 _Love,_

 _Harish_

Voldemort sat back, feeling something he had never felt before. He pondered on what it was for a minute. Ah, pride. He was feeling proud of Harish and he had never had anyone to be proud of before. A smile graced his lips. The boy was following in his footsteps already. He had cast the Cruciatus on a senior student at school. Voldemort could also tell that Harish would be at the top of the Slytherin hierarchy after this stunt. His heir was already living up to his name!

Then, he reread the letter and the smile soon disappeared. His Death Eaters would need dealing with. He had told them months ago that Harish was the son of someone very important (not mentioning that the boy was his son) and commanded them and their children to treat the boy with respect. Apparently, his men did not relay the message to their children, or they needed a better hold on them.

He started concentrating on the surnames that Harish had listed for him. The Death Eater's marks would start burning soon enough. Then, he sat back in his chair and waited for the accursed men to appear.

When all of them had arrived, he stood up imperiously. The five grown men cowered before him as he began to circle them.

"So," Voldemort hissed, his voice as cold as ice, "You didn't find it important to do as your lord says. You didn't care about the outcome of what would happen did you?"

"W-what are you talking about?" Rowle asked.

"Your son almost killed Harish! He shot an Entrail Expelling Curse at _my son_ , and I'm holding you responsible!" he shouted, his face inches away from Rowle's. " _Crucio_!"

Rowle's screams echoed about the room. The other Death Eaters looked down at their feet, not wanting to see their master's face. He had not mentioned that the boy was his…When did he get a son?

After a couple minutes, Voldemort seemed satisfied and let the Death Eater drop to his feet, sobbing pitifully and coughing as spasms ran through his body. He bent low and looked the man in the eye.

"Now, are you going to let it happen again? If it does happen again, I will personally make sure that your life is torture," he didn't even listen as the man babbled on about how it won't happen again.

Instead, his eyes fell to his next prey. The men were standing nervously. Some were fidgeting, and all of them wouldn't dare look up at him.

"I'm going to let you off easy because I think you got the right idea from watching Rowle suffer. But if anyone, your children or anyone else's, harms my child again the five of you will get the brunt of the pain." The Death Eaters nodded frantically and happily apparated away once he dismissed them.

Then, he went to his study and sat in his desk. He had sent a letter to Yaxley earlier that day to have the other man get a higher position in the ministry. He was glad that most everyone trusted the Death Eater. He was planning to have Yaxley run for Minister of Magic, and it wouldn't help him get that position if people didn't trust him.

Voldemort had originally offered Lucius to run for Minister, but the Senior Malfoy was comfortable where he was and didn't really fancy being the Minister.

Things were going well for his cause and maybe, in a year or two, he might start the war back up again. He was wanting Harish to be a little older and have slightly more magical knowledge before he started the war back up, so that the boy could participate and fight for his cause.

Once the boy was old enough to understand, he was planning on telling him why he had started the war in the first place, then he would tell the boy who he really was. He was sure that Harish would understand why he did what he did. The boy was very intelligent and absolutely adored him. Yes, he was very confident indeed.

The ends of his mouth turned up in an almost-smile. For the first time in his life, he actually looked forward to the summer. He was thinking about telling Harish about the Chamber of Secrets once he got home. He really had missed Harish and couldn't wait to have the boy back for the summer. He shook his head. Why did he have to be so affectionate? He growled in aggravation. At least he still had a hold on his Death Eaters.

Voldemort took out a quill and some parchment so that he could send a letter to Harish, saying how proud he was. At least, through all of this trouble with his emotions, the boy would be aiding him in taking over the ministry one day. Then, it wouldn't be so bad; he would have everything he wanted.

* * *

 **So, tell me what you think! Also, the curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts is still in effect in my story, so what do you think happens Professor Blackthorn? R &R!**


	9. Part 1: Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **Here's the next installment of Dark Heir! I hope you like it (or love it...or adore it)**

* * *

 **Chapter Nine: Vacation Here We Come!**

It didn't take long for the teachers to notice that something had happened within Slytherin. Everyone was acting very subdued and when a teacher asked them about it, they wouldn't answer. The only people who seemed completely at ease were Harish, Fred, and George. Harish was now sitting in the middle of the table with Fred and George on either side of him, half of the first years to his left, and half the first years to his right. Students who were in their second through seventh year were arranged in the same fashion.

Rumours had spread through the student body like wildfire that Harish would become the next Dark Lord and Fred and George would be his right hand men. Students would whisper as the trio passed them in the hallways. When the twins got a single whiff of gossip they would direct their now perfected glares in all directions.

Dumbledore got very concerned when he observed this drastic change within the Slytherin House. Because of this, the old professor resolved to keep an eye on Harish. Thus resulting in him practically stalking the first year. This did not go unnoticed by the twins who immediately informed Harish. The boy in question wrote his dad of this new adjustment.

On top of all this activity, end of the year exams were drawing nearer. As the days went by, students were buried under a huge mound of school work. The trio found less time to pull pranks and instead used it for endless hours of studying.

Several weeks after they got back from the holidays, Professor Blackthorn fell ill with a mystery disease. The professor who taught part-time Muggle Studies filled in for him. When she entered the class the first day, she told them that they would not be having exams for Defence Against the Dark Arts. The trio, twins especially, cheered in light of this new improvement. One less exam to study for.

After a week or so of the Professor being gone, it was announced that he would not be returning to teach the next year. This stirred up a lot of discussions as the man wasn't even that old and no one knew what he came down with. One instance of these discussions was a dinner one evening right before exams.

"It is sad though. Is it normal?" Harish asked. "For a professor to only last one year?"

Some of the first years shrugged but an older student replied, "Yeah, I don't actually think I've had one professor that lasted more than a year."

"I wonder why…" another students said thoughtfully.

Harish began to grow uncomfortable when a story of Nagini's popped up into his head. "Actually, it might have been my father."

This statement gained the attention of nearly everyone at the table. "What do you mean?" the same older student asked.

"Well, believe it or not, but my father actually wanted a teaching position here at first."

"Wait you mean that…"

"Was becoming a Dark Lord"

"—his _back-up plan?_ " the twins asked incredulously.

Harish nodded. "Yup, he was turned down the position of Defence Professor, so he cursed it."

The other kids sat staring at him. It was just so ridiculous that the thing that caused the man to turn into an evil, power-hungry warlord was the fact that Dumbledore didn't let him teach at Hogwarts.

 _WAAAIT—IT'S-DUMBLEDORE'S-FAULT!_

Harish and the twins were laying outside in the shade of a tree down by the lake after they took their last exam. It was so hot that they felt too sluggish to do any last pranks; it was the last day after all.

"So, Harish," Fred started.

"We managed to convince our mother to—"

"—let you spend the last few weeks of summer with us—"

"Can you come?"

"I am sure I will be able to. I'll ask my father when we get back home and owl you my reply."

"Sounds great!" they exclaimed in unison, grinning cheekily.

"So what're you—"

"Planning on doing—"

"This summer?"

"I dunno…probably read," Harish replied, scratching the back of his head.

The two shook their heads in mock disappointment.

"Shameful."

"So sad… And I thought—"

"We fixed him."

"Would you prefer me play Quidditch with Draco?" Harish asked sarcastically.

"The Malfoy boy?" Fred asked, the two of them wrinkling their noses.

"He is honestly not that bad," Harish said. "I mean he's a bit immature and his mother spoils him rotten, but other than that he's quite fun." Then he said quieter to himself. "I still don't get why people turn their kids against each other before the children have even met."

The twins both donned a thoughtful look before saying, "I guess we can give him a chance."

Harish grinned. At least the twins were very open. The boy had no idea what he would do if he had befriended their brother Ron instead. He seemed convinced that all Slytherins were evil. Then he shrugged. He could care less about the little brat. He looked out over the lake at the setting sun.

"Oh!" he exclaimed jumping up and running back towards the castle.

"What?"

"What is it?" the twins asked.

"We're going to be late for the feast!"

The three ran up the steps into Hogwarts and straight to the Great Hall. They entered the hall with the last few people and took their seats in the centre of the Slytherin table. All around them were green and silver banners. After a few minutes, Dumbledore stood up.

"Another year has come and gone," he said drawing everyone's attention. "And now we find ourselves on the very last day of school. Now before you all eat and pack up ready to leave, we must announce our winners for the House Cup."

He paused as everyone leaned forward in interest. "In fourth place is Hufflepuff with three hundred and four points. In third is Gryffindor with three hundred and twenty-three points. Ravenclaw has four hundred and sixteen points and Slytherin tops it all off with four hundred and thirty-two points!"

A storm of cheering broke out at Slytherin table. Some were banging their goblets on the table and others were so happy that they hugged each other in delight. The twins high-fived each other and then hugged Harish. He simply shrugged and began cheering with the rest of his house.

"Yes well done, Slytherin!" Dumbledore shouted. "And now we feast!" Food appeared on their plates and everyone dug into their food. After dinner the trio went down to the dungeons, packed up their trunks, and went to bed.

The next day Harish and the twins had their own compartment on the train. They played exploding snap and plotted new pranks for the next year. Occasionally a Slytherin or two would pop in and wish Harish a good summer.

When the train pulled into King's Cross Station, Harish bid his friends goodbye and dragged his trunk off the train. When he spotted his father, he grinned and ran forward eagerly. Harish hugged Voldemort and grinned up at the dark lord, who was smiling down at him.

"Father!" he exclaimed.

"Harish," Voldemort said with no emotion. "Have I told you about the Chamber of Secrets?" and the two of them grabbed Harish's trunk and apparated to Slytherin Manor.

* * *

 **I so can't wait to post more! If anyone has questions, feel free to ask. Now I have some of my own:**

 **So what will happen next summer? Will they find the Chamber the next year? What plots will be in store for our three Slytherins? Review!**


	10. Part 2: Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **So here it is! The first chapter of Harish's second year!**

* * *

 **Chapter One: Enter Draco Malfoy—No,** _ **Draco**_ **don't do that!**

Harish Blake jumped out of bed one summer morning eagerly. Today was the day that his father had agreed to let his friends, Draco Malfoy, Fred, and George Weasley, to spend the night. Harish and the Weasley twins were going into their second year at Hogwarts and Draco was two years younger. With his father being Voldemort, Harish saw Draco and Lucius often.

Early that summer, he had met with Draco and explained that his two friends were Weasleys. Harish convinced the younger boy that Fred and George were quite cool, and that they did _not_ approve of their family's blood-traitor status. Luckily Draco was still at an impressionable age, only being just under ten, and agreed to give the twins a chance—as long as he still got to make fun of their younger brother Ron. Both the twins and Harish readily agreed, for Ron wasn't exactly on their good side anyway.

The soon-to-be-second-year quickly changed, picked up his room, and ate breakfast. Then, he inhaled lunch and waited the last hour by the fireplace. Just before two o'clock, the flames turned green and a blonde headed boy emerged through the fireplace, falling promptly on his face. He sat up wincing and scowled as Harish began to laugh.

"I will manage to floo properly soon!" the boy whined defensively.

"I am just messing with you, Draco," Harish clarified, forcing himself to stop laughing.

"So where are these other friends of yours?" Draco asked eyeing the fireplace. "It is just like a Weasley to be late."

"They are not late yet," Harish replied. "You came too early." He prodded the younger boy playfully.

Draco sniffed in disdain. "Well, I find it better to be early than late."

"They are not late!"

Just then the flames burned green again and two redheads walked out. Draco scowled again, this time at the fact that a _Weasley_ flooed better than him.

"Draco, these two are Fred and George Weasley. Twins, this is Draco Malfoy."

The three eyed each other, trying to evaluate whether they were worth the time or not. Draco continued to glower.

Harish huffed. "Draco, don't do that!"

The young Malfoy realized he was being rude and put on a smile for his friend. "Please forgive me," he said shaking each boy's hand. "I got ash in my eyes." Harish half snorted at that pitiful excuse and half sighed as the tension had passed.

"Did everyone bring their brooms?" Harish asked.

Draco nodded and pulled out his Comet 260 while Fred and George pulled out Shooting Stars. Draco bit down a comment about cheap brooms when he saw them and instead asked, "How are we going to pair off?"

"Well," Harish said, "We can't really play a _real_ game because there's only four of us, so we'll play Mock-Quidditch. Since the twins both look like they can be beaters we'll split them up. So how about me and George verses Draco and Fred?" the others nodded. "Both Draco and I will stand in as chasers."

With that the four boys ran out back to the enormous lawn with two hoops charmed to stay up in the air as goals. Harish and the others kicked off and began to fly around the field. Harish grinned as the wind rushed past his ears. After a few minutes of flying they touched back down so that Harish could grab the Quaffle. He tossed it up in the air and as it began to come back down, the four boys began their game. Immediately Draco grabbed the Quaffle and began racing for the goal. George realized this and booked it around the goal and headed straight for Draco. George turned to face to the left and his shoulder stopped Draco from getting any further, causing the blonde boy to drop the ball. Harish, who had flown up underneath them, grabbed it and scored a goal. The game went on and on until they reached their time limit of three hours. They ended with a tie because their teams had been so evenly matched. When they finished, they landed with a bump to put up the Quaffle.

"Good game, guys," Harish said as they went inside.

"So, what're we—"

"Gonna do now?" the twins asked. Draco looked at them funny before raising an eyebrow at Harish. The boy in question laughed and made a "it's a twin thing" face.

"Come on," Harish said, leading them up the grand staircase to his bedroom. "I have something to tell you guys."

"What is it?" Draco asked as they pulled up chairs in a circle and sat down.

"Well, you know the Chamber of Secrets?" he asked, receiving three nods.

"It's a legend," Draco said as if it explained everything. "Everyone knows about it."

"Well it is not just a legend," Harish replied.

"What do you mean?"

"It's real, and we are going to find it."

"How?" the twins chorused.

"I don't know. My dad told me about it and said that it took him six years to find it. He says that if we find it before our sixth year, he'll give us a reward."

"What kind of reward?" Draco queried, perking up.

"The kind that we get to choose what we get."

All three boys grinned and said together, "I'm in." Then after a second, Draco slouched and began to pout.

"What's the matter, Draco?" Harish asked.

"How am I supposed to help you if I'm not even going to be at Hogwarts?"

"You could always ask your dad if he knows anything about the Chamber," Harish replied reasonably. "I'm sure he'd love to find that you're taking an interest in it."

Draco grinned and said, mocking his father's voice, "Oh Draco! I am so proud you have come asking me about your heritage! I always knew you weren't blood-traitor!"

The two boys sniggered at their inside joke, leaving a very confused Fred and George behind.

Then Harish sobered. "You know this means that you'll have to _actually_ write me this year. As I recall, you didn't send me a single thing all year long!"

"Sorry," Draco replied bashfully.

"So," Fred said. "How do we find—"

"This Chamber? Where do we—"

"Even start?"

Harish considered this for a moment. "I guess we should start in the Slytherin dorms, then look through all the dungeons, and then search any other part of the castle."

The twins nodded, pondering this. Then Draco put in, "I think that I will also look through the library back at Malfoy Manor, as well as interrogate my father."

"That sounds good," Harish agreed. "I will look through the library at school since these two bums won't set foot in there."

"What can we say, mate?" the twins asked in unison.

"The library is horrible," Fred said.

"Verified cause of death," George added.

"How do you die from a _library_?" Draco asked incredulously.

"Ok," George said, looking like he was about to rehearse a well-planned court case. "Say it's exam time."

"And the library is packed with people—" Fred added.

"So packed in fact, that—"

"It nearly makes you suffocate. And you're in there studying—"

"Really hard! And there are three options—"

"A: You die from overheating."

"B: You die from suffocation."

"Or C: You die from starvation because you wouldn't take breaks from studying so much," the twins ended in unison.

Harish half laughed and half shook his head in exasperation. He had heard this theory several times. Draco though, frowned in confusion. Apparently there were several things they had said that utterly confused the nine-going-on-ten-year-old boy.

"But…how would you die from overheating?" he finally blurted out.

"Come on, think!" Fred exclaimed.

"Wouldn't you get a little hot,"

"If _you_ were in a library absolutely _packed_ with,"

"Frantic, sweaty people?"

"Plus," Harish cut in because it was quite funny. "Exams are in the late spring. Even with the windows open it would be stifling hot."

"Exactly," the twins agreed.

Draco nodded as if this made perfect sense and the two red-heads smirked. Harish simply shook his head. Sometimes, the two of them were really ridiculous.

"Okay," Harish finally said, steering his friends back to their previous conversation. "So after today, maybe I could go over to Draco's and help him start looking through the Malfoy Manor's library. I could stay with him for a week and then spend the last two weeks over at the Burrow?"

Draco nodded. "I know my father will be fine with it as long as yours is."

The twins nodded as well, replying with something along the same lines, "We'll ask Mum when we get back. I'm sure she'll say yes."

"Well then!" Harish said clapping his hands together and hopping up. "That's all settled then!" He led the others to his father's office and he knocked gently on the door before heading in. "Father?" he asked addressing the tall, pale man that sat in his high leather-bound chair. "We were wondering if I could arrange to stay with Draco for the next week and then the last two at the twins' house?"

Lord Voldemort seemed to consider this for a moment before replying, "That seems completely reasonable."

Harish grinned. From his father, that meant yes. He watched eagerly as the Dark Lord walked gracefully over to the great fireplace and threw floo powder into it.

"Lucius Malfoy," he stated, sticking his head in. "My son wants to know if he can stay a week at your manor. Yes. I'll tell him that." He pulled his head out and turned to Harish. "Mr. Malfoy said, 'Don't forget to bring your broom.'"

Harish and Draco grinned at each other. "Thanks dad!" Harish exclaimed. "I will owl you Mrs. Weasley's reply!"

With that the four boys ran up to play a game of Exploding Snap. The next morning, as planned, the twins flooed back to the Burrow while Harish loaded up his trunk for school and the rest of summer. They intended to visit Diagon Alley with the Weasleys and the end of the summer. Then he and Draco flooed over to Malfoy Manor.

 _BACK-TO-THE-SLYTHERIN-LAIR—YAY!_

"Father?" Draco asked, peeking his head around Lucius' office door. "I was wondering if you would help me with something?"

"Yes, what is it Draco?" Lucius asked distractedly, flicking a page of his newspaper with a wave of his wand.

"What do you know about the Chamber of Secrets?"

Now _this_ got Lucius' attention. He laid his newspaper down gently and sat up to peer down his nose at his son, his eyes looking less cold.

"Ah," he said dramatically. "I always knew this day would be coming! Nice to see you are already looking into the Slytherin House's past. You will be a Slytherin for sure! Yes, I do know about the Chamber though. It was opened when my father was in sixth year. They say that there was a dispute between Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor. Slytherin believed that the other founders should be more precise in who they let into their school. Gryffindor, however did not agree. So, according to legend, Slytherin created a Chamber that could be opened by his heir alone. It was said to be the home of a horrible monster. No such Chamber has been found of course."

"You said it opened?"

"Yes. About fifty or so years ago. The school was put into a state of panic. Nearly shut down."

"Where could the Chamber possibly be?" Draco asked.

"Wanting to find it for yourself, eh?" Lucius joking with a hint of a jeer in his voice.

"I was only wondering where it could be if no one has found it yet. It must be in the least likely place."

"Thoughts of a true Slytherin," Lucius said before returning to his newspaper as if indicating that their conversation was done.

Draco nodded thinking hard and returned to the library, where he found Harish sitting on the floor with huge mounds of books all around him.

"Draco!" the older boy exclaimed, smiling. "I think I've figured out how to locate the general area of the Chamber!"

* * *

 **So sort of cliffhanger. Read and Review! Also, two questions...**

 **How long do you think it will take them to find the Chamber? What do you think might happen this year?**

 **TTFN!**


	11. Part 2: Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

 **Just warning you, after you read this chapter, you may either hate or love me...It depends on how much you like Dumbledore. Either way, I hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

 **Chapter Two: In Which Old Men Meddle In Little Boys' Lives**

Professor Albus Dumbledore sat thinking in his office. He knew that death-eaters had gotten more lively in the past year. Dumbledore always knew that Voldemort would come back. This didn't mean that the Dark Lord was, in fact, returning but it caused a great deal of concern. Another problem was the fact that, when Voldemort really did return, he would not have Harry Potter to use as a saviour. The only other boy who the prophesy could apply to was Neville Longbottom, who was currently living with his elderly grandmother. Dumbledore nodded to himself. The boy would make the perfect saviour. He was ignored and looked down upon by his grandmother and tortured by his great-uncle. If Dumbledore were to show up at their house and 'rescue' the boy, then Neville would look up to Dumbledore and eventually see him as a father figure.

 _WATCH-OUT—HE BE TROUUUBLE!_

Neville sat at dinner, trying to choke back his tears. It was unpresentable to cry at the dinner table after all. He nursed his arm. Earlier that day, his Uncle Algie had dropped him out of the window. Luckily his magic reacted just before he hit the ground, causing him to bounce. Unfortunately, this did not completely save the boy, because he had landed on his elbow and skinned several layers of it. Everyone had been so overjoyed that they didn't even notice that his arm was bleeding.

Uncle Algie had gifted Neville with a toad, saying that it was a prize that his beloved nephew was no longer a squib. But, Neville knew that his great-uncle was still being cruel because _everyone_ knew that a toad was the lamest pet you could have. Algie did stuff like this all of the time. One time, he had kicked Neville off Blackpool Pier. Neville had only been six at the time and didn't know how to swim. If it weren't for his gran finally levitating him out of the water, Neville definitely would've drowned. He also tormented Neville to no end. Augusta Longbottom was no help either. She always condoned Algie and made remarks about how Neville _will never_ live up to the Longbottom name.

So on this day Neville waited miserably for dinner to end so that he could ask Gran to fix his arm. It was about this time that a knock sounded upon the front door. "Go see who it is, Neville," Augusta commanded.

Neville nodded, sniffled a bit, a scooted off his chair. He went down the hall and struggled to pull the door open. What he saw was definitely not what he had expected. An old, wise looking wizard was standing on their doorstep, his eyes twinkling down at Neville. The man had a long white beard that was tucked into the belt of the most eyesore robes ever made in existence. But, this isn't what Neville noticed. It was the kind fatherly expression on the old man's face; almost as if the man knew him.

"Hello! You must be Neville!" correction: _definitely_ knew Neville.

Neville nodded and sniffled a bit shifting his arm a little and letting out a cry of pain.

"Are you okay?" the man asked.

"Gran says it's just a scratch…" Neville mumbled.

"Can I see it?" the man said, his tone a bit harsher now. Neville nodded and held his arm out. The wizard waved his wand, and the torn skin began healing up. Neville gasped as he could no longer see his bone sticking out. He always loved magic.

"Better?" the old man asked. Neville nodded again. "Can I come in?" Neville moved to let the professor pass and followed as he went into their dining room. "Hello Augusta!"

Madam Longbottom looked up at the wizard and said, "Dumbledore, it's good to see you. Neville," she said, turning to her grandson. "This is Professor Dumbledore. He's headmaster at the school you'll be going to next year."

"That's nice, ma'am," Neville said politely.

Dumbledore stayed for a good while, chatting with Augusta and Algie. They eventually agreed that Neville should spend time with boys his age so that he'll have friends before he heads off to Hogwarts. Dumbledore insisted that the boy should visit the Weasley's often. They had many Gryffindors. Dumbledore almost hoped that if Neville spent a lot of time with the Gryffindor clan, he would end up there as well. Then he left off after pulling Neville aside and telling him to send a letter to the school if Algie did anything again.

Neville was very happy about this whole arrangement. Normally Gran would just keep him out of sight. The most friends he had were his relatives. Now he got to make friends with a boy his age! Not only that, but now Algie couldn't torment him anymore! Neville decided that night, that he really like this Dumbledore man.

 _DON'T FALL FOR IT—DUMBY BE BAD!_

Harish, Fred, and George were in the twins' room with their heads stuck together, in deep conversation.

"Draco and I figured out how to roughly locate where the Chamber is," Harish said.

"How?" they two red-heads asked in unison.

"Well, we just need to figure out where in the castle would be large enough to hide a secret chamber."

The other two thought on this for a moment before nodding as the logic behind this statement sunk in. The Chamber would most likely be underground since there was nowhere on the grounds that was large enough.

Then Fred leaned forward but spoke louder, "We have another important matter to discuss," he said elusively.

"What do you mean?" Harish asked, genuinely confused.

"Well, we were—"

"Wondering if you were planning—"

"On joining the Quidditch team—"

"This year."

"Oh…" Harish exclaimed, trailing off. He hadn't even thought about Quidditch. "I guess so. What positions would you two be trying out for?"

"Beater," they replied together, George swinging an invisible bat towards Fred's head, who feigned being knocked out.

"I'll probably try for Seeker then. Draco and I figured this out years ago; he'd be the star Chaser and I'd be Seeker."

"Your friend is—"

"Mighty pompous, isn't he?"

Harish nodded. Draco had always acted that way, trying to live up to his father's example.

"BOYS!" Mrs. Weasley's voice sounded through the thin walls of the Burrow.

"Yes, Mum?" both twins shouted.

"IT'S TIME TO LEAVE FOR DIAGON ALLEY!"

"Yes, Mum!" came the reply.

The three second years scrambled to pull on shoes and comb hair and ran down the stairs to the fireplace in a flash. Mr and Mrs Weasley and Percy were already waiting on them.

"Sorry Ma'am," Harish apologized, shooting her a winning smile.

"That's alright dear," she said kindly, before barking at the twins, "Grab a handful of floo powder! We don't have all day!"

Then she threw her own handful into the fire. The flames leapt up, turning green. Mrs. Weasley stepped into the fireplace and exclaimed, "Diagon Alley!" before disappearing in a brilliant flash of green flames. Percy did the same and Harish followed him. Then he found himself spinning in the fireplace and walked out of the grate into Flourish and Blotts.

"Now boys, you can go and buy your things. Just be sure to make it back here by one o' clock," Mr. Weasley said once both Fred and George made it through.

The three of them nodded and dashed away down the alley. Harish led them to Gringotts, for he needed more money. Once there, he held out his key and stated, "I am here to draw money from the Potter vaults."

"Griphook will be with you shortly."

It was about two seconds before a goblin with black hair and long fingers stepped up saying, "Follow me."

The trio did as they were told and were herded out into a stony passageway where they climbed in a rickety cart. From there they rode to the vault.

Harish heard Fred and George gasp behind him as the vault door was opening. There were heaps and heaps of money. Beyond that were stacks of books, trunks filled with heirlooms, and countless other objects. As Harish was scooping galleons into his money bag, something caught his eye. It was a lumpy mass of brown paper, but something silver was poking out of the wrappings. Harish tilted his head, looking at it before climbing into the vault and grabbing the lumpy package. The twins watched as he opened the wrappings and a cloak flowed out and onto the floor. They both gaped as Harish picked it up and spread it out to look at it.

"That's an invisibility cloak they—"

"Are really rare!"

"I know," Harish said quietly, looking at the cloak almost reverently. "The question is what do we do with it?"

He shot the twins a grin and knew that they were thinking the same thing as him: there were so many places they could explore with that thing. They could go into the forest, roam the corridors at night, or search down closed off areas. This cloak could aid them in finding the Chamber! After thinking of that Harish made up his mind that he was going to take it, stuffed it into his book-bag, and finished scraping money into his money bag.

"Come on," he finally said. "We still have to meet with Draco."

So they went to the Apothecary where they had agreed to meet the junior Malfoy. Then the four of them got fitted for robes. After that they bought their books for the year, and then headed to Florean Fortescue's where Harish bought all four of them ice creams.

"I can't believe that the holidays end this Monday," Fred said glumly.

"I know!" George agreed, licking off a large hunk of ice cream.

"And then it will be a whole other year before I can play Quidditch with Harish again!" Draco exclaimed with a horrified expression.

"Don't worry," Harish said, leaning back and smiling. "After that year you'll be going to Hogwarts _with_ us."

"It seems so long away…" Draco moaned.

"That's because—"

"You're still a child."

"Am not!" the blonde boy squawked indignantly.

 _I-SCREAM-FOR—IIIIIICREAM!_

Arthur watched the three boys interact with a smile on his face. Most of his problem with Malfoy Senior wasn't that he was a Malfoy, but because he really was a horrible person. He was glad to see not only that Draco seemed to be less dark, but that the twins were mending the feud between the two families. And he had Harish Blake to thank for that.

Molly Weasley, however, had a whole different view on this situation. She was standing by her husband watching them warily. She feared that the Malfoy boy was corrupting her sons. Harish seemed a polite kid, but his father definitely seemed to be on the dark side. What would the twins do for acceptance in their house? Would they start using terms such as Mudblood as well, or would they resort to something worse? What if her precious sons became Death Eaters? She knew that she shouldn't make them feel so out of place in the family because they were in Slytherin, or would be absolutely certain that they would follow Harish and Malfoy down that path.

Both Weasleys sighed, one out of contentment and one out of reluctance. One thought went through both of their minds at the same time. _"We'll just have to wait and see."_

* * *

 **So, tell me if you like it! I can't wait until I have more chapters published! Read and Review! Now, three questions...Do you think Harish will try out for the Quidditch team? What do you think would happen if the prophecy became known by the public? Do people still revere their Harry, or have they found a new saviour?**

 **TTFN!**


	12. Part 2: Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

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 **Chapter Three: Hogwarts—A Place of Mystery**

The Slytherin trio woke late on September 1st, not quite ready to leave for Hogwarts. They threw their last belongings into their trunks and lugged them down the stairs and into their father's car. Then they ate a hurried breakfast and rushed out the door. The boys were then driven to King's Cross Station (along with Percy, the prat) and practically ran to the barrier.

Harish sighed happily at the sight of the red engine. They were finally going back. After staying there for nine months, it seemed like another home to Harish and he couldn't wait to be back. The twins felt exactly the same way. It was definitely more fun to pull pranks at Hogwarts than it was at home where they always got in trouble because they were the only ones that ever _pulled_ pranks. The two of them swore to do better this year. Last year's pranks were so _meager_ , not to mention there were only a couple of them.

After saying goodbye two their parents, Fred and George boarded the train, but Harish lagged behind, seeing if he could spot his own father's tall figure. And, to his surprise, there was his father, leaning casually against a pillar. Harish trotted over to say his goodbye.

Voldemort cleared his throat before saying. "Go show all of those people who you are. Don't let them talk bad about you and Harish," –he paused awkwardly looking deep into the boy's eyes—"goodbye, son."

Harish felt his eyes prickle with tears. This was the first time in his life that the Dark Lord had recognized that he was his son. Without thinking, he lunged forward and gripped his father tightly in a hug. "Goodbye, Father," he mumbled into the folds of Voldemort's long dark robes before pulling away and grinning cheekily. "But what is all this gloom for? See you in June!" he chirped before dashing off to join his two best friends.

Once he sat down in the compartment the twins picked out, he asked, "Ready to be back?"

"Definitely," they said in unison.

When the train started, the three of them stuck their heads out of the window and waved at their families. Harish watched his father disappear as the train rounded the corner.

They closed the window and sat back against theirs seats.

"So, Fred and I have a few ideas for this upcoming school year," George said, leaning back.

"Oh?" Harish asked seriously.

"Well, first off—"

"We think that we—"

"Should up our game doing pranks." Harish nodded. They hadn't done very many pranks the year before.

"Also George came up with the wonderful idea—"

"That we should do a book recording all of the pranks we pull."

Harish nodded again.

"And we have one more thing to propose," George said.

Fred then said, "We think that," he cleared his throat, "we should start a pranking business."

Harish raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Well, like Zonko's!"

"We've been thinking that we—"

"Could come up with joke products—"

"And once they're good enough, we could sell them at Hogwarts!"

"How would you intend on doing that?" Harish asked.

Both twins looked down and said in unison, "I dunno…"

Then Fred looked up and exclaimed, "But that's why we want you to help us!"

Harish looked from one freckled, eager face to the other freckled, eager face and sighed. These twins were going to be the death of him one day.

"Yes!" they both exclaimed, Fred pumping a fist in the air and George jumping up and down.

"I didn't even agree!" Harish protested.

"That, my dear sir—"

"For you was an agreement!"

"No it wasn't!" but the twins were too busy cackling to take notice.

 _WEASLEY'S-WIZARD-WHEEZES—HERE WE COME!_

 _Oi! I still haven't agreed to this!_

Neville lugged his suitcase along behind him, walking up the grassy pathway to the Burrow. He steeled himself. This would be the first time he had interacted with someone his age (other than cousins), he'd better not screw this up. He observed the oddity that was the Burrow until a red head emerged from the front door.

"Hi, my name's Ron. Who are you?"

"Neville," Neville replied. Ron's eyebrows shot up. He had been told about Neville, the boy who was destined to defeat Voldemort.

"Do you like Quidditch?" he asked. Neville nodded shyly. "Come on then!" and he dragged Neville up to show him his bedroom.

 _QUIDDITCH—THE-WAY-TO-GAIN-ANYONE'S-FRIENDSHIP_

Harish and the twins sat impatiently through the Sorting Ceremony. The House had sat down in the old order. Harish in middle between Fred and George, the seconds years around them, then the third years and so on. They had left room on each end of the table for the new first years. Harish figured that this was going to go this way until he graduated. Eventually, the Sorting ended and Dumbledore gave his start of term speech. Finally after that food appeared and the trio dug in.

"Do you think they'll let me onto the team this year?" Harish asked after swallowing some chicken.

"Yeah," Fred said with his mouth stuffed full of food. "You're _really_ good."

"Not to mention the whole house is deathly scared of you."

"Not the whole house," Harish interjected.

"Yeah the—"

"First years. We know. The rest of the house'll probably—"

"Pass on stories about you." The twins both looked at other kids in their year who were listening in on their conversation. The fellow Slytherins then nodded as if they had been told directly to do that.

Harish shook his head. His life could be really ridiculous sometimes. He guessed it was just something that came from being raised by a dark lord, a snake, and an insane lunatic who was obsessed with the Cruciatus Cruse. And then of course the twins added a whole lot of silliness to it all. Then, he smiled to himself as the twins started flirting with a girl in fourth year; no matter how hectic his life was, it really was great. On this note, he then swooped in and rescued his friends from the girl's death jinxes and swiftly changed the topic.

"So, what type of joke products do you want to make?" Harish asked them.

"Maybe some joke wands or—"

"Trick sweets."

Harish nodded. "How are you going to do that?"

"First we would need to find potions or ingredients—"

"That would have the effects we want,"

"Make a sweet, and try it out."

"We're going to be trying these on ourselves?" Harish asked, sounding concerned.

"Don't worry about it," the twins assured him, patting him on both shoulders.

Harish rolled his eyes and finished off his plate. Soon after that, deserts appeared and with it came a conversation about Ron—

"The prat put itch powder in our shirts the other day," Fred had complained.

—And then it moved to his new friend, Neville—

"I swear Ron's corrupting that poor boy," George commented.

Of course then the twins let slip about Neville being in the prophesy and Harish turned queried, "Wait, what was the prophesy about?"

"Oh it was about a boy that was born at the end of August that had the power to defeat your dad."

"There were two boys Ron's age that it pertained to. Harry Potter—"

"—who's dead—"

"—and Neville Longbottom."

"It also talked about Neville having—"

"Strange powers and blah, blah, blah."

Harish drew his eyebrows together. That wasn't good. There was a boy destined to kill his father, and he was friends with Harish's best friends' brother. That wasn't good at all. Harish wondered if the Dark Lord knew about this prophesy. He probably did if the whole Order knew about it, but since they were talking about Dumbledore, he might not know. The troubled boy hardly even noticed when they were dismissed and herded down to the dormitories. There, he wrote a letter to his father about the prophesy and how he heard of it, and set it aside to mail in the morning. Then the exhausted twelve-year-old went into their dorm, which now said 'Second Years' instead of 'First Years', and fell asleep almost instantly.

* * *

 **Here are your questions of the chapter. What do you think Weasley's Wizard Wheezes might be named, since Harish isn't a Weasley? What importance do you think the prophecy might hold to Harish and his father? Finally, how well do you think the Slytherin team might do if they add a certain extraordinary Seeker and his Beater friends?**

 **R &R**

 **TTFN!**


	13. Part 2: Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter...sigh and sad faces**

 **Hope you enjoy the update!**

* * *

 **Chapter Four: Back to the** _ **Old**_ **Life**

The next morning Harish woke up early and walked up from the dungeons all the way to the Owlry, which was a tower on the south side of the castle. He had heard rumours that it was actually quite close to the Gryffindor tower, but he never really cared. The boy attached his letter to a Hogwarts owl and sent it off. After watching it fly until it seemed like a mere black speck, Harish headed down to breakfast. There, he found the twins already waiting for him.

"Where've you been?" they whispered.

"Sending a letter to my dad," he replied, sounding and looking completely casual. This seemed to satisfy the twins, because they proceeded to fill Harish in on the conversation they had been holding.

The trio, after finishing their breakfasts, waited patiently for Snape to come around with their schedules. When the boys finally received them, they headed off to their first class, Defense Against the Dark Arts. Their new Defense professor was an old man named Professor Dobbins, who admitted to planning on staying there only a year before he retired. It was a good thing too. Though the man knew a lot about defending himself against the Dark Arts, he was _really_ scatter-brained. He kept forgetting what he was talking about or forgot which year he was teaching. Even though he was dotty, he was quite funny.

He had started off the class by calling role, occasionally commenting on a name or a child whose name he had called. Then he swayed for a moment before pointing to a boy sitting in front.

"You!" he had barked, causing the whole class to jump. "You want a job?" he asked loudly, as though he couldn't hear himself (he probably couldn't, he was that old). The boy's eyes bugged and he didn't say anything. The old professor must have taken that as a yes, though because he began prattling everyone's ears off. "—And every morning I want you to come and check my pulse. If I'm still alive, wake me up or anything, but if there _is_ no PULSE!" –he shouted that last word—"Then you don't have to have class!"

The class laughed at his joke before he continued on with his lesson. Maybe it wasn't so bad that he was only staying for one year, because he had forgotten to assign homework at the end of class.

Their next class was Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall was as strict as ever and she piled on loads of homework even though it was the first day back. The three boys reluctantly trudged down to the common room to get started on their homework after lunch. Harish zipped through all of his which caused both of the twins' eyes to gravitate towards his paper. After sitting of a few moments, trying to relax while Fred and George copied off his work, asking what a word was every other sentence, Harish hopped up and exclaimed, "That's enough! Do your own work!"

"Aww, c'mon!"

"That's no fair!"

They both darted forward and tried to grab the paper out of Harish's hands. He ended up running out of the common room and into the library where he sat down in a window seat, sighed, and closed his eyes. He sat there in peace for several minutes before his homework was yanked out of his hand. He slit one eye open just in time to see a pair of robes whip around the corner. He made to get up, but sighed reluctantly and leaned back against the window. What did it matter if they copied off of him? At least they weren't pestering him anymore.

 _HARISH-IS-A-LAZY-BUM—HMM-THAT-DEFINITELY-DIDN'T-COME-FROM-LUCIUS_

Lord Voldemort sat in his study, arranging his plans for Yaxley, who was his minion in the ministry. Suddenly, a Hogwarts owl swooped in and dropped a letter in his lap. He picked it up slowly and with concern. A letter from Harish already? _'This must not be anything good,'_ he thought.

The man ripped the letter open and quickly read through it. So Harish had finally found out about the prophecy. The Dark Lord knew that the boy would have to learn of it eventually. "The sooner the better" maybe wasn't quite the appropriate saying for this situation, but he was glad that he didn't have to tell Harish himself.

This raised the question of when to tell Harish, or rather—Harry, who he really was. The pale man had always planned on the boy knowing eventually, but now that he already knew of the prophesy…well, now he actually had to think about it. Voldemort sat thinking before finalizing that he would tell the boy in a couple years or so—after he heard the rest of the prophesy. He knew that Severus hadn't given him the whole prophesy, so he also knew that he needed to hear the rest of it. Then, he would be able to figure out how to tell Harish about why he had stripped the boy of his family that night.

Even though he felt sure that Harish wouldn't make a big deal of it, he couldn't help but feel uneasy. What if, when he did tell the young man, the boy in question became angry and abandoned his cause. After thinking this, Voldemort quickly banished the dark thoughts from his mind. The boy adored him. As well as that, he also had a very rational way of thinking and would see the logic behind the man's choice.

Voldemort shook his head and instead started figuring out how he could get the prophecy for himself.

 _SWEET-HARISH-NICE-HARISH—HE-ALWAYS-UNDERSTANDS_

Harish, Fred, and George eagerly bounded to the Quidditch pitch where try-outs were currently being held. He had a Nimbus 1999 slung over his shoulder which he had had for several years. It was now starting to look slightly beat up, but luckily he had heard that a new model would be coming out in a year or so. Fred and George both had ancient Shooting Stars, but their playing skills made up for the lack of speed. This didn't really matter though, as they were trying out for Beaters, and they needed a lot more arm strength than they did speed or agility like a Seeker would need.

They lined up with other students who were going to be trying out as well, and waited for the team captain, Marcus Flint—a fourth year—to stride out onto the field. Instantly, he began giving orders out the first people to try-out were the chasers. Terrence Higgs, Adrian Pucey, and Pierre Bole were made chasers (Flint was a one as well). Then the keepers tried out. Out of the three, Marius Bletchley was made keeper. Then, it was Fred and George's turn to try out. Flint had them fly around and whack a few bludgers at targets. Then he pulled out measuring tape.

"What's that for?" the twins asked.

"Oh, we just try to go for a certain size when it concerns our beaters."

So he measured them from shoulder to shoulder. Finally, after writing something on his clipboard, he shook both of their hands and said, "Congratulations, you're on the team." Then he turned to look at Harish, who was the only one left standing there. "You want to try out for Seeker?" he asked.

Harish stepped forward and smiled, "I guess I do."

He heard one of the twins snigger from behind him. Of course they had told the entire year that Harish was going for Seeker, so that there wouldn't be any competition. Flint squinted at him, taking in his slim frame and small stature. Then Flint grunted and commanded him to fly around the stadium for a bit. Harish did so, zooming around and making spectacular dives. Finally, Flint waved him down and he stood there excitedly. "Since you're the only one who tried out," Flint growled. "I guess I'll let you on the team." Then the boy stalked off and Harish re-joined the twins to walk back to the castle.

"I think he liked you, mate," George said as they walked off.

"Really?" Harish asked skeptically.

"Yeah, he definitely gasped during that one dive," Fred replied, grinning. Then one of them mimed flying a broom while the other pretended to swoon.

"You keep up that good flying—"

"And you'll have him eating out of the palm of your hand."

Harish shook his head, but grinned anyway.

 _YAY-FOR-JAMES-POTTER—CATCH-THAT-SNITCH!_

"So," Harish started, spread across his bed on his stomach, looking at the twins who were sitting on Fred's bed together, facing him. "What kind of prank should we pull?"

"Well," George said, "I've been thinking…have you ever heard of that Muggle prank that involves cups of water?"

Harish looked at him blankly, but Fred caught on instantly. "George, you're brilliant!"

"Why thank you, Fred."

"What prank? What are we going to do?" Harish asked, clueless; he knew nothing of Muggles.

"Well, the water goblet prank involves—"

"Filling the hallways of schools with water goblets—"

"So that you can't step _anywhere_ without spilling all of the goblets!"

Harish nodded, catching on now. "We'd have to do it at night," he supplied and the twins nodded thoughtfully. "How about you two get the water goblets and we'll hide under the cloak and levitate the cups into the corridors."

The red-head boys nodded. "We'll also have to start—"

"After prefect patrols end."

"So midnight tonight, then?" Harish asked. The twins grinned identically.

"Midnight tonight," they agreed.

 _MIDNIGHT-TONIGHT…OOH—THAT-RHYMES!_

They day passed entirely too slow for the Slytherin trio. They went to all of their lessons and rushed through all of their homework. Then, they spent the rest of the evening planning their prank until it was nearly midnight. The three boys, deciding that that was the night to test the Invisibility Cloak, slipped underneath it and headed to the kitchens. Once they got there, they convinced the elves to lend them nearly half a million goblets.

The goblets were filled with water and levitated in a great, shiny, dripping mass out of the kitchens. Then, they started placing them directly outside of a classroom door on the first floor. They continued placing the goblets, careful to place them evenly. The boys went on and on until finally, they reached the last floor, where they had stashed brooms.

After they placed the last goblet, the three second-year pranksters climbed on their brooms and zoomed down to the corridor that led to the common room, which miraculously didn't have _any_ goblets outside of it, unlike the Gryffindor Tower, Ravenclaw Tower, and Hufflepuff Commons, which were near the kitchens.

Then, they trudged exhaustedly to their bed and slept the last dwindling hours of the night away. The next morning, even though they were eager to see what would happen, they also didn't want to get up. Finally, Harish convinced the twins that they needed to get up early enough to put the rest of their plan into action. So Harish, followed by a surly Fred and George, walked up to the common room and out to the corridor where they had first planted the goblets.

There they found a mass of unhappy students, eager to get to class. "I bet it was the Gryffindors that did this, Marcus grumbled. A couple other students nodded.

"Now no one will be able to get to classes today because of them!" Hubert Warrington agreed.

This got a chorus of agreements as the other Slytherins got stirred up as well. Finally, Harish stepped up, grinning and clutching his broom. "Hey I happened to have my broom in the commons because the twins were planning on pranking me with it. Would anyone want rides to their classes?"

All of the students looked at him interested. Finally, Adrian Pucey spoke up. "How much do we have to pay to borrow your broom?" Yup. That was a Slytherin for you. They never did _anything_ without expecting something in return.

"Five galleons."

The other students nodded and eagerly began coughing up. Slowly, the mass of students dwindled and it was getting close to time for Potions, so the three boys hopped on the broom and flew up to their classroom as quickly as they could. This looked to be a promising day.

The rest of the day Harish loaned his broom to fellow Slytherins and Dumbledore spent it spelling every single goblet away and it took…well, let's just say he spent all day doing that one task, along with the help of a couple teachers of course. Also time was added due to the fact that someone had tried to get through a corridor on the second floor and ended up flooding the whole level. All of the teachers weren't very happy with this particular prank, McGonagall in particular had been livid, her nostrils flaring as she stared at their trio from the teacher's table that evening at dinner.

As a result, they made a total of 600 galleons, which they put on a jar in the bottom of Harish's trunk that was labelled, "Funds for Joke Shop"

* * *

 **Here's a glimpse of insane ambition for you. I hope you liked it. If you did, review! If you didn't-welllll go find something else to read. Anyway, I have three questions for you:  
Do you think Voldemort will ever tell Harish who he is? When do you think he might? How do think the twins being sorted into Slytherin is affecting Ginny, and/or their parents?**

 **R &R**

 **Until next time...**


	14. Part 2: Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Five: The Debacle of Childhood Rationalities**

Harish soon discovered that Quidditch practice was a lot more work than he had initially expected. Flint set them on a gruelling practice schedule and, once he got whiff of Harish's abilities as seeker, he became determined to not let anyone see them play as to keep Harish a secret until their first game. This resulted in their practices being held at ungodly hours of the morning, which forced Harish to resort to sleeping through half his classes. As a result of their practices every morning from Monday to Saturday, the team flew very well together, they knew the moves by heart, and Flint was absolutely positive that they would win the upcoming season. As it got close to mid-October, Harish had even managed to catch the snitch two minutes into the game three practices in a row.

Finally though, Flint cooled off accepting that they had it down pat and the first game was half a month away. Therefore, the trio began to enjoy their time outdoors (and their sleep) more as their practices lessened to only three days a week. And when I say, enjoy time outdoors, I mean, attempt to get past Fang, the gamekeeper's giant boarhound. It had become a sort of game that the three boys had running. They would sit outside on the lawn for an hour or so, doing homework or such, until one of them would stand up and say, "Bet ya you can't make it into the forest this time," and they would dash off into the brush giggling.

Then Hagrid would come stomping outside, Fang bounding at his heels. If Hagrid couldn't grab them, then Fang would grab the seat of Harish's pants with its teeth and drag him back to the gamekeeper, who would dole out punishments. But, more than likely, Hagrid would pull them all out on his own. Sometimes Harish couldn't decide which was scarier; the werewolves that were rumoured that the forest contained, or five hundred pounds of raging giant coming straight at them.

On this particular day, Harish was laying back on the grassy field in between Hagrid's cabin and the castle. On either side of him were the twins, arguing about who they should prank next.

"What about Adrian?"

"Nah…Have you seen his stunning jinx?"

"Well what about that girl…Anna? Aria?"

"It's Arora," Harish groaned, one arm over his eyes to block out any sunlight.

"Huh?" both twins said, turning to him.

"Her name is Arora."

"Oh," they said before continuing.

"So what about Percy? We haven't pranked him in a while?"

Harish sighed, getting bored of their argument, but nevertheless stayed silent for several long minutes. Eventually, he cracked. The boy stood up slowly and glanced inside Hagrid's cabin. All of the curtains were drawn shut. Then, he turned to observe the forest which seemed to have nothing moving around in it that day. Finally, he turned back to the twins and said, "Hey! I bet ya you can't make it to the big pine!"

"Of course I can!"

"Hey wait for me!"

"Come on Fred, are you a sissy?"

"Who are you calling a sissy, butt-head?"

"Butt-head?"

"It was better than poop-head."

And their game went something like that. The pine Harish had mentioned was the largest pine in the forest that wasn't too deep to venture towards. As the three boys ran to it, shouting and laughing, a large hairy face peered through one of the windows of his cabin. Quicker than a stampede of mad hippogriffs, Hagrid puffed his way out to the woods.

Harish and Fred were standing on either side of George, who was carving something into the tree as they heard the snapping of trees and harsh breathing of the half-giant, Hagrid. "Hurry up!" Fred shouted to George frantically.

"You're not the one carving!" George shouted back, his face red with concentration.

"Oh, move over," Harish commanded before pulling out his wand and casting a spells that caused slashes in the tree's bark.

"I thought I told yer boys to stay 'way ferm these woods!" shouted Hagrid angrily.

"Oh, hi Hagrid," the twins said, smiling innocently at him.

"Detention with me!" he yelled causing all three boys to shrink a bit, their smiles frozen on their face.

They walked off sadly, yet triumphantly. They had finally managed to carve something on one of the trees yet it was a bitter-sweet victory. As they walked up to the castle, a leaf fluttered past the message, "Property of the Marauders—Junior Edition".

 _MARAUDERS-STARTED-A-THING—sniff—SO-ACCOMPLISHED!_

Harish, Fred, and George followed Filch out to Hagrid's cabin. They were going to be doing their detentions with him, enlarging the pumpkins for Halloween. Hagrid loomed over them, making sure that they didn't talk. It took them a lot longer than Harish had initially expected there were nearly a hundred pumpkins to enlarge and each took about five minutes. Between the three boys, it took them just over two hours. So basically, by the time they finished, it was well past dinner time.

"Anyone else fancy a trip to the kitchens?" Harish asked as they walked away, each stowing their wands up their sleeves.

The twins shot him identical grins, which he took as a yes. The moment the portrait swung to the side and the three boys entered the kitchens, house elves began swarming all around them.

"Master Blake! Masters Weasley!" they all squeaked. So they may have had a few late night snacks last year.

"Could we have some dinner?" Harish asked.

"Of course Master Harish!" and they were steered over to a table and heaps of silver platters were piled in front of them. The three growing boys happily dug into all of the food, devouring as much as possible. After they finished off the multiple main courses, they ate dessert in comfortable silence. Finally they exited, thanking the elves as they went.

Once they were back out in the corridor in front of the kitchens, Harish pulled out two tools that he and his friends considered crucial to life, the Marauders Map and Harish's newly found Invisibility Cloak. "This seems like a good as place as any to start looking for the Chamber," Harish said, turning back to the twins.

The red-heads nodded and asked, "Exactly what are we looking for?"

"I don't know a big—chamber like thing," Harish said inanely, flapping his hands out in indication of a large room helplessly.

"Great," they replied in unison.

"Very insightful," Fred said sarcastically.

"We _totally_ couldn't tell that it would be a chamber from, I don't know—the Chamber of Secrets?"

Harish rolled his eyes and handed the map over to the twins while he pulled the cloak over himself. For a couple hours or so, the boys looked around every crack around the kitchens and the upper dungeons. After a while, they met back up and the twins suggested that Harish say something in Parseltongue to open it, but they still couldn't find the Chamber. As silvery light flooded through the windows and the moon rose higher in the sky, the Slytherin trio finally gave up as they were already exhausted.

So, the three of them ran down to their beds and fell into a deep sleep.

 _SLEEPY-TIME-FOR-LITTLE-BOYS!_

 _Oi!_

Everything was normal in the Weasley household. It was a regular Saturday morning at the Burrow. Molly Weasley was sighing about how soon all of her babies were going to be out of the house as she cooked more bacon, Mr. Weasley was sitting at the head of the breakfast table reading the newspaper, Ron was inhaling all of his food and making loud comments, spewing his younger sister, Ginny, with crumbs. Ginny herself was eating her eggs daintily while drawing a picture of a snake in the shape of an 'S'.

"Whatchew drawin'?" he asked spewing eggs everywhere. Ginny glanced at him and angled her paper where her obnoxious brother couldn't see.

"Nothing," she replied evenly.

Ron swallowed all of his food in one big gulp and furrowed his eyebrows. "What are you drawing?" he repeated.

"Nothing!" Ginny replied again heatedly, this time slapping her paper face-down on the table and keeping her hand on top.

"Lemme see," he said, grabbing it from her. When he looked at it, his mouth fell open in shock. The cretin's eyes darted from the paper, to his sister, and back to the paper again. "Are you wanting to be in Slytherin?" he asked incredulously, looking mightily betrayed.

"So what if I am?" Ginny asked, sticking her nose in the air.

"So they're all evil!" Ron exclaimed, throwing his hands out in exasperation.

"Are Fred and George evil then?" she asked slyly.

"Yes—No!" the boy exclaimed looking confused.

The little girl smiled smugly. "And if I were in Slytherin, would that make me evil?"

"No…"

"Well, then what's so different about other people?" she asked brightly before hopping out of her chair and plucking her paper back. "I'll take that, thank you." And she pranced out of the room.

Ron sat in his chair, a confused look plastered on his face, opening and closing his mouth in protest. Then, when he recovered from his shock, he slumped against his chair moodily and began picking at his food. Mr Weasley sighed. He was going to lecture Ron about insinuating that his brothers were evil, but it seemed as though his daughter beat him to it. Molly got her spatula, dropped more bacon on Ron's and Arthur's plates, and sat down to eat.

Their meal continued in silence for another minute or so, but then a Hogwarts owl swooped into the kitchen screeching, and dropped a progress report on Mrs Weasley's lap. She opened the letter and read it before relaying information to her husband.

"The twins had another detention," she said.

"What for?" Arthur asked.

"Trying to explore in the Forbidden Forest again."

"Again?"

She nodded. "Do you think I should send them a letter? Or a Howler?"

Arthur shook his head. "They're just curious. There's no harm coming from it."

"I suppose," the Weasley matriarch sighed, not looking all that convinced.

Silence overcame the table once more and then yet another owl dropped a letter in. This one was actually from the twins. Instead of falling on Molly's lap, this one fell on Arthur's. It read:

 _Dear Dad,_

 _We know that it's kind of early, but we were wondering if we could spend the holidays at Harish's. He came up with the idea because we were discussing Christmas, and he said that since he came over last year, we should go over to his place this year._

 _Love,_

 _Fred and George_

"The twins want to spend the holidays at their friend, Harish's house."

Ron, unnoticed by anyone, stabbed a pancake rather viciously. First Harish corrupted the twins, now he's corrupted Ron's baby sister. Oh how the ten-year-old red-head wished he could go to Hogwarts already to knock some sense into that boy.

* * *

 **So here it is. I love writing nine-year-old Ginny so much! Now for your three questions:**

 **What do you think Hagrid thinks of the twins? What kind of prank might they pull to top their last performance at Halloween? How do you think the twins will compete when their brother is the Seeker for a rival team?**

 **R &R!**

 **~TTFN**


	15. Part 2: Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

 **So, here's your update!**

* * *

 **Chapter Six: The Goings On of Quidditch**

As it grew closer to the end of October, the weather procured increasingly colder temperatures. Frost lay on the grounds in the mornings and trees turned bright red. On one particular morning, Harish was up early staring out a window. He hadn't been able to sleep as Halloween was that day and their first match was a couple days after that. So, he went to an alcove that he had discovered. It was a window that's sill was wide enough to sit in, and it was hidden behind a tapestry. The only problem was that, with the Map there was hardly anywhere in the castle that the twins didn't know where was. The first time Harish had hidden in this alcove, the twins had jumped him when he left. It was for this reason that Harish had the Cloak stuffed up his shirt.

Harish sat in the window seat overlooking the grounds. It was quite chilly that day. Frost streaked the ground and the sun, which was just rising, hidden behind clouds that were streaked red. Leaves fell slowly to the ground in wide arcs and off in the distance, the Whomping Willow shivered from its frosty bark. Smoke rose slowly from Hagrid's cabin chimney and Fang could be seen asleep in the batch of pumpkins, which were each now the size of a house. The young man sat watching this scene silently for a little while, until he finally decided that it would be late enough for breakfast to have started.

So, he silently pulled his Invisibility Cloak out and draped it around himself, even tucking it under his feet. Then, he listened intently and sure enough, he heard quiet murmurs of Fred and George, and a small clink of metal. Ah, so they were hiding behind the suit of armour. Suspicions confirmed, the boy hit the tapestry in a manner that made it flow outwards as if being pushed by a strong breeze. Before it came back to hang limply once more, Harish slipped out silently, making sure that the cloak didn't come up to show his feet. Then he went to stand behind the twins, who were in fact peering from behind a suit of armour, investigating what made the tapestry move. Finally agreeing that it was the wind, the two boys relaxed. That was when Harish decided to strike.

"Yah!" he shouted loudly, jumping forward and jabbing both of their backs. The twins, in turn, jumped rather high and let out identical, high pitched screams. The two clutched each other for a second, their heads swivelled towards where Harish was standing, still invisible.

Finally, after they recovered from their shock, they both reached forward together and groped in the air a second before finding the cloak and pulling it off of their friend.

"Touché," the two of the said together and Harish grinned.

"Ready for another Halloween?"

"Duh!" Fred said while George replied, "Of course!"

"Well, then what are you waiting for? Let's go eat breakfast!" and he turned on his heels and bolted down to the Great Hall.

The twins followed closely behind him and they went in, sat down, and dug into their food. This year, they had decided to lull everyone into a sense of false security by not pulling any pranks all day long. Then, at dinner they were going to pull the biggest prank yet. Their plan that was involved was so fool proof, there was no way it could go wrong.

The trio waited impatiently for the day to end, going over their plans in their heads. In each class, students looked at them weird because they hadn't pulled any pranks yet. Finally, others stopped caring and came to the conclusion that there weren't going to be any pranks that year. When they realized this, each individual let out a sigh of relief. The twins were the best pranksters Hogwarts had seen in years. Some teachers even foolishly hoped that this lack of pranks would continue. Then, all of them realized how stupid they had been when the feast rolled around.

That night a thousand live bats fluttered and swooped all around the Great Hall causing the candles in the large pumpkins to flutter. Along each table were smaller pumpkins, each of them had a different face carved into it. The feast appeared suddenly on golden plates as it did at start of term feasts. After everyone arrived, Harish forked some potato into his mouth and nodded at the twins, who flicked their wands discreetly underneath the table. Instantly corn chips appeared on the food platters and guacamole spewed out of the smaller pumpkins' mouths onto the table in front of them with a weird belching sound.

Harish looked at the corn chips for a minute, feigning confusion, before reaching forward and grabbing some to dip in the guacamole. Then he shoved it in his mouth and smiled to indicate that it tasted good. Following his lead, the twins dug into the new appetizer, and then the rest of the Slytherin house. Soon, everyone was eating again and the trio launched the next part of their plan.

All of the lights in the Hall went out and a dark evil chuckle reverberated loudly off of the walls. Then, the pumpkins each let out a scream, their candles flickering back on and the ones above spewed more guacamole: this time onto all of the students below. Harish grinned; he didn't care about getting messy so much if it was a part of a prank that had involved everyone else getting messy, including the Headmaster. He glanced up at the High Table where each teacher was wiping green goop off of their faces. First, he looked at Snape, who was scowling profusely. Then he looked to Professor Dobbins, who cleaned himself off with a flick of his wand and laughed the whole thing away. Harish then looked from the dotty old man to their Deputy Headmistress, Professor McGonagall, who's lips were pressed firmly into a thin white line. Finally, he glanced at Dumbledore. When he did so he automatically scooted closer to Fred as he noticed that the headmaster was staring at him with no emotion at all.

Harish then turned and whispered to the twins, who both leaned in to hear, "Look up at Dumbledore."

"Is he…" Fred whispered before George finished for him.

"Staring at you?"

"It's like he can read our minds," the twins said together before one said, "Weird." And the other whispered, "Blimey."

Instantly Harish gasped and shrieked maybe a bit too loudly, "But that's illegal!" causing several students at their table to turn and stare at them.

"What's illegal?" Fred asked, no longer whispering.

George jabbed them both in the sides and Fred looked around to see that there were people staring at him now.

"What's illegal?" he repeated, much quieter.

"Dumbledore—Legilimency—students…he can't do that!" Harish whispered back urgently.

"You're not making any—"

"Sense. What's Legilimency?"

"It's a technique that a witch or wizard can use to essentially read other people's minds," he replied. "A technique that Dumbledore is using to read students' minds, which is illegal."

Both twins' mouths formed a perfect 'o' as they realized what this meant.

"He could lose his job!" they both exclaimed.

"I highly doubt that," Harish replied coolly. "He's much influential. The best way anyone could get him fired is to do something first that would cause him to lose his reputation. Otherwise no one would believe us and say that he's much too good to do something like that."

"That's—"

"Horrible!"

"But true. Think about it. What would your mother do if you came home and told her that the _headmaster_ was reading your mind?"

"She wouldn't—"

"Believe us I guess."

"Exactly."

 _Gasp—NO-BUT-HE'S-THE-LEADER-OF-THE-LIGHT!_

Harish woke up slowly, listening to the soft snores of the other boys in the room. At first he had no idea what woke him, but then he felt another shake to his shoulders. He groggily opened his eyes to see Fred and George bending over him.

"Wake up mate!" Fred said giving him one more shake.

"We've got a game today!" George exclaimed ecstatically.

"I'm up!" Harish snapped, slapping Fred's hands off of his shoulders to prevent being shaken again. He sat up and quickly got his clothes on.

When the three of them walked into the Great Hall, booing began to sound from the Gryffindor table. Harish hesitated, but then walked forward confidently when Flint beckoned them over. Because of the game, the usual seating arrangement got mixed up and instead of second years, the Slytherin team were in the middle, a seat saved dead centre for Harish.

"Ignore them," Flint told the nervous trio of second years.

Fred and George nodded. Now some people, like Adrian, were so nervous they couldn't eat a thing, but the extra pressure simply seemed to make the twins more hungry than usual. Harish watched as the two of them scarfed their food down so fast that you could hardly see their forks. After a minute, Harish ate a bit of food and then, when everyone was done eating, they all headed down to the locker room. There they all changed into their green and silver Quidditch robes.

"All right everyone," Flint said a couple of minutes before it was time to go out. "This is our time to show everyone that Slytherin is superior. It's our first game, so really, our most important. Just try your best to win, okay?" Everyone nodded. "Okay, it's time to go."

As they walked onto the pitch, booing sounded from everyone one in the stands. Harish quickly tuned them out; no use letting nerves get the best of him. They all gathered around Madam Hooch, who was refereeing and stood in the middle of the field.

"Now I want a fair game, from all of you," she said. Harish snorted as she glanced towards Flint. There wouldn't even be any _need_ for foul play this year. Their team was apparently better than it had been in years and the Slytherin team had been winning for several years in a row.

"Mount your brooms please."

Harish smoothly leapt onto his broom, the rest of the team doing the same. Madam Hooch blew her whistle and fifteen brooms rose up into the air.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Terrence Higgs, Slytherin Chaser—" a boy from Gryffindor, Lee Jordan was commentating. "—and is taken by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor—quite a good player and rather attractive too—"

"JORDAN!" shouted Professor McGonagall.

"Sorry Professor—and Angelina takes a hit from one of the Weasley twins. Can't tell which one it is…I wonder what their mother thought when after generations, the Weasley twins were sorted into a rivalling house."

"Jordan! The game please!"

"—and the Quaffle is caught by Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint. And-and—he scores! Ten points to Slytherin!"

The stadium groaned and Harish punched his fist into the air. Then, he stopped watching the game and began searching for the snitch, still making sure to keep out of the way. That was part of Flint's plan. Keep from being attacked before he spotted the snitch since they weren't allowed to curse other players (which Harish thought was stupid. What would he do if he was about to get rammed?). Once he caught a glimmer of gold, but it turned out to be one of the twins' battered watches.

He watched for the flutter of silver wings, listening with half an ear as Slytherin scored goal after goal. Bletchley managed some rather spectacular saves and the twins were quite a force to be reckoned with.

"Gryffindor in possession—no Katie Bell gets hit by yet another bludger, turns out Flint didn't hire them just for size after all—"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry Professor. And Angelina catches the Quaffle she aims for a goal and—the Quaffle is blocked by Slytherin Keeper, Bletchley!"

"Slytherin in possession—Bole with the Quaffle—passes Spinnet—passes Bell—hit hard in the face by a bludger, hope it broke his nose. Only joking Professor—Slytherins score—oh no…" The Slytherins were cheering and the Gryffindors let out a loud groan. "Wait is that the snitch?"

Harish jerked around and saw the snitch fluttering by a goal post. Unfortunately, the other Seeker, Charlie Weasley saw it as well. The two of them started speeding towards it from opposite directions, but Charlie was gaining speed on Harish. Suddenly, a bludger whizzed past Charlie's ear and he froze, looking at his brother who had nearly hit him. Harish took this advantage and shot past the older boy. As he began getting close to it, the snitch suddenly started flying down and Harish went after it. He was maybe five feet from the ground when he levelled his broom to keep from crashing and the audience let out a collective gasp. Harish leaned forward as far as he dared and grabbed the snitch.

Suddenly it sounded as if the stadium had exploded. Slytherins were screaming and shouting with delight and Gryffindors groaned and booed loudly. Lee Jordan began shouting into the microphone, "Slytherin Seeker Harish Blake catches the snitch and Slytherin wins with two hundred fifty points to forty!"

Harish flew to the ground, hopping off his broom. There he was ambushed by the rest of his team. "Great job, Harish," someone called while another clapped him on the back.

Then, he turned to Fred. "Great job with that bludger!" he said and Fred grinned widely.

"Come on!" Marcus Belby called as the rest of their year flooded onto the pitch. "Party in the common room!"

All three boys grinned in unison and shouted, "We'll bring snacks!"

 _CELEBRATION—IT-TIME-TO-PARTAY!_

Lord Voldemort sat in his study working on how to break into the ministry. The manor was eerily silent with Harish gone. But, luckily, since Harish was gone the year before it didn't feel quite so new this year. Suddenly an owl swooped in and dropped a letter on his lap. It said:

 _Father,_

 _I know it's only November, but I was wondering if the twins could spend the holidays at our place. We thought that since I stayed with them last year, maybe we should flip flop it this year. Don't worry about their parents, we've already asked them and they said that the twins could come over as long as you cleared it._

 _Also, recent development here at Hogwarts hasn't been very good. At the Halloween feast, I realized that Professor Dumbledore has been using Legilimency on his students. I was wondering if maybe you could start teaching me Occlumency this summer?_

 _Anyway, I hope that you are doing well. Write me about any work you've been doing._

 _Love,_

 _Harish_

 _P.S. Slytherin won the first match 250 points to forty. Fred nearly whacked his brother (the other Seeker)'s head off!_

The Dark Lord leaned back in his high back chair and thought for a moment. While he was reluctant to have little boys running his manor over this Christmas, he saw no reason why he couldn't allow Harish to bring friends over. Then, he thought of how to phrase his reply to the second point Harish brought up in his letter. Voldemort seethed with anger at this thought. How dare that meddle-some old fool go frolicking through his son— _his son's_ mind! He shook his head. If he didn't have to keep their identities secret for now, he totally would've gone up to the school right then and there and cursed the old headmaster into oblivion.

Sighing, he brought his quill up to a piece of parchment writing:

 _Harish,_

 _I thank you for letting me know that the headmaster is committing a crime such as reading my son's thoughts. I will definitely teach you Occlumency this summer, and maybe then you can instruct your friends in it as well. We don't want the old man knowing who we really are._

 _Also, I am sure that Dobby and Rinkle would welcome a few guests as they only ever get to serve me now. I would not mind if your friends stayed with us this break. Also, if you must, you are allowed to invite Draco. I hope you're grateful. It's not every day I'll let our home become overrun by teenagers._

 _Congratulations on winning the match._

 _Anata Thomas Blake_

* * *

 **Remember to review! Tell me what you liked, what grammatical errors I made, et cetera, et cetera...Anyway, here are your questions:**

 **How long do think it will be before someone realizes that Harish is Voldemort's "son"? How do you think being raised by a Dark Lord would affect any child (specifically Harish)?**

 **~TTFN: ta-ta for now!**


	16. Part 2: Chapter 7

**I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, I would be rich...which I'm not...**

* * *

 **Chapter Seven: Research…Ugh**

After their completely successful Quidditch match, the trio decided that they could dedicate more of their time to finding the Chamber. Flint had almost completely slacked off with practices now limited to only once a week. Though he did drill them constantly about not getting cocky or they'll blow the whole season. But, because of their extra time (and Hagrid threatening bodily harm if they were found within five feet of the forest again) they started trying to find the Chamber again.

Harish decided that their attempt to just try and find the Chamber was completely unsuccessful, so he completely resolved how they were going to find it. The boy came to the conclusion that they would have to research the Chamber before they had any chance at all at finding it.

This is why the three second years could be found each sitting around a table in the library one bright Saturday morning with huge books stacked all around them. Harish was reading avidly a book on Salazar Slytherin and the twins were each picking through _Hogwarts a History_ , trying to find mention of the Chamber of Secrets.

Harish glanced up slightly from his book when he heard two sighs escape from the other side of the table. "What?" he asked, his eyes moving back to the page of his reading material.

"This is such a waste—"

"Of a beautiful Saturday morning."

"Yeah, who would want to spend it in the _library_ of all places?" Harish asked sarcastically. "When everyone knows it's a verified cause of death?"

"Shut up," both twins said before flicking a page in their books casually and in unison.

Harish failed at holding back a snort. They really were _too_ much alike sometimes. At this, the two Weasleys angled identical glares at Harish. "Not helping," he said with a smile. And they went back to reading. After a while, Harish grew bored of reading up on Slytherin and left the twins to research on the Chamber while he found something else of interest hidden in the back of one of the shelves.

It was a dusty old leather bound book that looked like it was at least fifty years old. Curious as to what it was, Harish pulled it off and opened it slowly. The first page read:

 _School Records_

" _This should be interesting,"_ he thought.

After a couple minutes, he twins noticed that he was missing. They grinned at each other before calling softly, "Harish? Where'd you go?" then Fred added quieter, but still loud enough for the other boy to hear. "I guess the library swallowed him whole."

George tsked and added, "It's a shame…I guess we'll just have to leave then."

They made a show of standing up, slamming their books shut and scraping their chairs against the floor. Then Harish poked his head out from behind one of the shelves.

"Ha, ha very funny. But I bet you'll have fun trying to find your spot again." The twins groaned. "But guess what I found!"

"Something boring?" George stage whispered to his twins and they both grinned evilly once again.

Harish ignoring this remark, replied, "I found old school records of my dad."

The other two sat up straighter with curiosity. Information about Voldemort when he was in school? The twins practically started drooling at the thought of it.

"See look here," Harish flipped to a page where he had a finger stuck in it, marking the page. There was a picture of a boy a couple years older than them that looked a lot like Harish; dark hair, pale skin, and really slim. "This is a picture of him in his fourth year. And this—" he flipped to another page he had saved that had a certificate stuck to it. "This is a Special Services Award that my father got for turning in the culprit that opened the Chamber nearly sixty years ago."

"But isn't—?" the twins said before cutting off as Harish slapped a hand to both of their mouths.

He glanced around before saying with gritted teeth, "Imposter, remember?"

They both nodded, understanding now that they were about to go shouting about Harish's father being Voldemort. Slowly, Harish removed his hands from the other two's mouths, trusting that they were thinking about what they were saying now. The three boys went back to reading and occasionally Harish would comment about something else he had found on his dad. The thought of Voldemort being a boy…it was one that freaked the twins out. Some people you just _can't_ imagine as a child.

After they decided that they had researched enough, they went back to the common room, planning on pranking someone. When they walked in, a sixth stood up with his nose stuck in the air. He looked really ticked off and had an air of arrogance to him.

Harish sighed. This was going to be annoying, he could already tell.

"You know, Blake?" the young man said rudely. "I'm sick of you waltzing all over the place like you're in charge. How can we even be sure that you really _are_ the Heir of Slytherin?"

"I'm Voldemort's son," Harish replied evenly.

"Really?" the other boy sneered. "What kind of name is Blake, then?"

"An alias," Harish sneered back. "You know, a name that you use to hide your identity if you were—I don't know—an infamous dark lord."

"You could be making this all up," the older student snarled, taking a step forward.

"Are you challenging me?" Harish asked, taking a step forward as well. His voice was dangerously low and his eyes glinted with the promise of pain, flashing death green again.

He stood there, staring up at the older boy. Most people would have gone running if Harish's glare was directed towards them, but the twins noticed that the boy was either stupid, or really idiotic, because his stance didn't even waver as he said cockily, "Yeah I guess I am". The whole room shifted uncomfortably waiting for a battle to unfold.

Harish's face contorted into a wolf like grin and he let out a laugh that lacked any mirth. It was high and cold. Then he started circling his prey like a hawk like he had seen his father do to unruly Death Eaters. This was when the other student started having second thoughts, seeing the younger boy's enthusiasm and readiness for a fight with a fifth year. But, he realized that it was too late to back out now.

Harish glanced at the rest of the House, which had slowly been gathering in the common room to watch how Harish dealt with the young man. "This is an example of what happens if you question my honesty. Expelliarmus!" his victim's wand shot out of his face and rolled underneath a couch, forgotten. He then quickly shot a stinging hex and the boy grabbed his side in pain. "Do you want to think about an apology?" Harish asked.

The sixth year jutted his jaw out defiantly and replied, "What, to a little Mudblood?"

This was obviously the wrong response for Harish's face grew pink and he waved his wand and the other boy began vomiting slugs. "Rethink your answer."

"Why?" the other boy said and Harish waved his wand yet again, this time the boy clutched his knee, which was now bent backwards.

"I'm sure that all of you remember," Harish said, addressing his audience once again and circling his victim. "What happened last year, when someone questioned my authority."

The other boy paled as he saw where this was going. "Please, I'm sorry," he pleaded.

Harish, however, ignored him and continued on. "For what kind of Mudblood could perform an Unforgiveable?"

The other student opened his mouth to protest, but Harish wheeled around and called, "Crucio!"

A jet of red shot out of his wand and hit the other boy square in the chest. Harish held the spell, screams echoing his ears, until finally he felt two hands on his shoulder. He looked to see the twins standing right by him.

"I think they get it," the two said quietly and Harish cast his eyes down, nodding. He released the other boy from his wrath and walked out of the room without a second glance back.

When they got in the dormitories, the twins rounded on him. "Don't you think that was-"

"A little harsh?"

Harish frowned, obviously puzzled. "He disobeyed. That's what happens when people disobey."

"What do you—?"

"Mean?"

"Well, I've seen a couple of Death Eater meetings in my time and that's what my father does when they are rude to him. First he gives them a warning, and if they overstep the barrier again, he punishes them." The twins looked at him. Trying to find a way to distract them, he said with a plea in his eyes, "How about I teach you some spells I know so that you can protect yourselves if anything like last year ever happens again."

The two red-heads sighed and raised an eyebrow at the horrible subject change but nevertheless allowed themselves to be distracted for their friend's sake.

"What've you got?"

"What was that spell you used that bent that boy's leg all funny?"

Harish smiled. Mission accomplished.

 _POOR-PRAT—HE-DOESN'T-KNOW-ANY-BETTER_

Professor Snape sat at the high table that evening, eating dinner and appearing like nothing was wrong. But something was wrong. Earlier that day one of his Slytherins had been transported to the Hospital Wing. Poppy had later informed him that the student was suffering from a slug-vomiting hex, a splintering hex, his knee was bent in a way that knees were never designed to face, and he appeared to have either been victim of a hundred stinging jinxes or had the Cruciatus cast on him. This was peculiar though, because no one could use an Unforgiveable in the castle. He sighed tiredly. This was a lot like what had happened one year previously when several fourth to seventh year boys had shown up in the hospital. That had also occurred right before that drastic change within his old house.

He narrowed his eyes. Something fishy was going on and all evidence pointed towards top student, Harish Blake. He still couldn't figure out who that boy looked like. He glanced at the boy, taking in his prominent cheekbones, pale pointed face, and almond shaped pale green eyes. The face looked like no one he had ever seen. The boy glanced his way and their eyes caught, Harish's narrowing warily when he noticed that his head of house was watching.

After a minute he looked away and Harish's gaze slid away as well, but his eyes snapped back to the other boy's. Those eyes…Snape nearly fell out of his chair in shock. They were _Lily's eyes_. The professor guessed that he didn't recognize them until right then because Harish's eyes were several shades lighter; just enough where they looked almost completely different other than shape. But…How? How was this boy related to Lily?

His gut wrenched and he looked away, no longer able to stand it. He didn't care how the boy was related to Lily at the moment. He did not want to stir up painful memories. So, he shoved these revelations to the back of his mind and quit thinking about them. No use in trying to figure these things out when he had papers to grade.

* * *

 **So...? How did you like? Do you think the twins will turn Dark? Do you think the trio need to make mischief? If you do, R &R!**

 **For those who follow my story, thank you so much! It means a lot to me. I hope you enjoy it the more the story progresses from here!**

 **TTFN :3**


	17. Part 2: Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **This one's a bit short, but I hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

 **Chapter Eight: An Introduction to Many Passageways of Success**

The most major day in history, the turning point of the world, the change of all life as we know it was the day that the Slytherin trio discovered Hogwarts' many secret passageways. Or at least, this is how they saw it. Three twelve-year-old boys were searching the map for a new location to explore (as twelve-year-olds do) when Harish had pointed to a couple of lines and asked, "What's this?"

'This' was what looked like a tunnel, leading off the map.

"I dunno," the twins said.

"But look there's one—"

"Here and another here."

"And they all lead off the map…" Harish trailed off. The three of them grinned at each other. "Guys, I think we just discovered hidden passageways!"

"Should we see—"

"Where they lead to?"

Harish was already pulling his cloak out of his trunk. "Definitely."

So the next few weeks were spent doing just this. In turn they found seven passages leading to Hogsmeade; four that they were sure that Filch knew of, one passage behind a mirror, one passage behind a statue of a one-eyed witch that led to Honeydukes, and another passage that was underneath the Whomping Willow (they didn't explore this one though because Harish _did_ fancy keeping his head thank you very much). Plus there were several passageways hidden throughout the school that were very useful for navigating around corridors that were very full.

Now of course, once equipped with information of such passages, they couldn't help but _use_ them. This is why, one day, the twins decided to drag Harish to Hogsmeade. Yup, you read it right. The three second years wanted to bypass all of the security set up for Hogsmeade trips and sneak into it a year before they could even be allowed to go. Well of course Harish didn't want to go, but who could deny the twins a field trip when they threaten to tell the Dark Lord that his son had abandoned the dark side and was becoming very close friends with Albus Dumbledore. This wasn't really true, but Voldemort wouldn't know that.

So this is why one could find Harish, Fred, and George all in a secret tunnel together, heading for Honeydukes. Harish had grumbled for a while, but after a couple minutes his curiosity set in and he was too busy looking all about the tunnel to complain any more.

The tunnel itself was a very narrow, low, earthy passageway. It twisted and turned, almost like a burrow of a great big rabbit. The three of them hurried eagerly, occasionally tripping on the uneven floor, Harish was in front with his wand lit so that they could see where they were going. Finally, the path began to rise.

Ten minutes later, they came to the foot of some worn stone steps, which rose out of sight above them. They paused here for Harish to get out the cloak and drape themselves in it before they climbed up and up until finally, Harish hit his head on something hard without warning.

He groaned and massaged his head before feeling what he hit his head on, discovering that it was some sort of trap door. Jack pot! He shushed the twins before putting out his light and listening to make sure that there was no one nearby. When he was satisfied that they were in the clear, he quickly clambered out, Fred and George following him.

They stood there panting for a minute to get the cloak resituated before creeping to a set of wooden staircases and silently ascended it. They reached the top of the stairs and slipped through a door, only to find themselves behind the counter in Honeydukes. They carefully went underneath the counter, making sure that no one's feet showed.

Then they discovered that Honeydukes was so crowded that there was no hope of the three of them remaining under the cloak, so Harish reluctantly pulled it off and tucked it away. No one seemed to notice the three second years anyway, so they took this as an advantage to explore the shop without hindrance.

There were shelves and shelves of the most fattening looking sweets imaginable. Creamy chunks of nougat, shimmering pink squares of coconut ice, honey-coloured toffees, hundreds of different kinds of chocolate in rows, a large barrel of Every Flavour Beans, and another of Fizzing Whizbees, levitating sherbet balls, along a whole wall were "Special Effects" candies. Drooble's Best Blowing Gum (which filled a room with blue bubbles that refused to pop for days), strange Toothflossing Stringmints, tiny black Pepper Imps ("breathe fire for your friends!"), Ice Mice that made your teeth chatter, sugar quills, and exploding bonbons.

But, no matter what quality sweets there were, the twins thought that this was nothing compared to Zonko's. There were all kinds of Dungbombs, Fanged Frisbees, Exploding Snap decks, Screaming Yo-yos, Non-explodable Luminous Balloons, Belch Powder, and Grow Your Own Warts kits. The twins bought several of each product and finally left the shop saying that they could make much better joke products than that.

After they visited these shops, the twins had bags full of jokes and Harish had bags full of sweets. They stopped to have a look at the Shrieking Shack before deciding to head back to the castle, this time taking the passage that was hidden by a drainage grate that came out behind a tall mirror. All in all, it was a pretty fun trip and most importantly—they didn't get caught.

* * *

 **Tell me if you liked it! Now, how do you think Bellatrix interacts with the son of the Dark Lord? When do you think the trio will start inventing things for the joke shop? Do you think they have forgotten about the 'blob' or did they just forget that they wanted to solve the mystery?**

 **R &R!**

 **~TTFN!**


	18. Part 2: Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

 **Hope you enjoy this latest update, and if you do you know what to do (REVIEW!). No one has asked me about Horcruxes yet, but I realized that I probably need to tell you all that in this new Harry Potter world I created, Voldemort has none. Now...On with the show!**

* * *

 **Chapter Nine: Enter Bellatrix Lestrange…Oh Dear**

A couple weeks before the holidays, snow began battering the old castle relentlessly. Any chance of escaping outdoors was out of the question. Within a week, everyone began developing a case of cabin fever. This combined with the Weasley twins was a definite recipe for disaster. As a result, the twins began pranking nearly anything that moved. By the time they only had a week left, suits of armour were singing Christmas Carols very loudly, paintings all were dyed red and green, every Slytherin showed up each day covered in soot as a result in some sort of explosion, and Harish resorted to taking the map and hiding somewhere from the devils to keep from being ambushed and forced into another ridiculous scheme.

On top of this, at the beginning of that last week, Harish had received a letter bringing…bad news? Harish wasn't sure if it was quite classified as bad when it was actually a good thing.

The day he had received it the Slytherins (all except for the trio) were sporting stringy grey hair that stuck up straight. The twins were trying to dye Dungbombs underneath the table, accidently spraying dyeing spells all over Hubert Warrington, who was unfortunately sitting across from them. Harish was sitting in his usual seat, eating happily when an envelope dropped in his lap. He fed some bacon to Augustus before opening the letter. When he read it he let out a groan.

"What's the matter?" the twins asked.

"Bellatrix has come back from her mission in France. She's going to be coming over to stay with us for the holidays."

"And that's—"

"Bad?"

"Well…it's good that she's home but she's just…" he trailed off.

"She's not that bad is she?" George asked hopefully.

Harish gritted his teeth. "You'll see."

And indeed they did. Their holidays started with a kick. The twins had pulled one last prank and frankly, everyone was more than glad that they were going to be leaving for the holidays. Then when the boys had gotten off the train they had been greeted by Voldemort himself (the twins managed to act as if they hadn't a clue who he really was) and Draco, who was hopping up and down beside the ominous man.

Then they had had their ears chattered off by Draco on the— _very long_ —drive to Harish's manor.

"Mr. Blake just picked me up for my father—he's with the Minister of Magic!"

"Hey, did you know that Dobby used to be _my_ servant?"

"Hey, did you know that thestrals can only be seen by someone who's seen _death_?"

"Well _I_ didn't."

"Did you really make pumpkins puke—sorry—upheave guacamole?"

"I'm having to take _courtesy_ lessons—ugh—they are _soo_ boring!"

Harish was really glad when they finally arrived at the manor, but that relief was short lived when a large, curly haired, black blur sped towards him and he found himself scooped into a very tight hug, his toes a couple inches from the ground.

"Oh, Harish! I've missed you so much!" Bellatrix cooed, looking down at her 'nephew'. "How's my favourite nephew? Let me look at you!"

"I can't—breathe—"

"You are such a darling thing! How is your Cruciatus coming?"

"Hey—" Harish choked out, catching sight of her _actual_ nephew. "Look at how much Draco's grown!"

Draco's mouth fell open in horrific silence, his eyes looking so betrayed.

Soon Harish found himself in a heap on the floor as Bella bustled over to embrace the younger boy.

"Oh, Draco! Look how you've grown!"

"I'm going t-to—kill you," Draco gasped as his lungs were crushed.

Harish smirked. There wasn't a chance that he would be beat now, not with training on pranks from the twins.

 _UH-BELLA—I-DON'T-THINK-THEY'RE-QUITE-READY-FOR-THE-CRUCIATUS-YET_

"Come on," Harish whispered to the other three boys. They were currently standing outside his father's meeting room. That was where he met with all of his Death Eaters on numerous occasions. The boy was never allowed in there, hence the whispering, but he wanted to show the room off to his friends.

He crept forward and silently pulled the door handle down, letting it swing open. Then the insane boys went quickly into the room and shut the door behind them.

"Where are we?" the three other boys whispered almost at once.

"This," Harish stated. "Is where my father holds his Death Eater meetings."

This got the reaction Harish had completely expected. The twins glanced at each other before quietly glancing around and Draco…he was excited.

"Really? Have you ever been in a meeting? Have you at least watched one?"—Harish nodded slowly—" Oh, cool! You're so lucky!"

"Draco," Harish said, failing to get the boy's attention.

"My father barely even glances at me, let alone tells me what happens in the meetings. They're reeeeeally secretive—"

The ten-year-old kept babbling on. "Draco!" Harish repeated louder.

Suddenly they all stopped and listened when George said, "Do you hear that?"

Harish strained his ears and made out the Dark Lord's footsteps as he walked down the hall. They could hear the man talk quietly with Bella. The boys began to panic as the footsteps drew nearer and as the doorknob started turning, Harish thought quick on his feet—The second year spotted a cupboard in the corner, grabbed his frozen companions to drag them into the cupboard, and shut the door behind them, leaving enough of the door cracked to observe the meeting with.

Voldemort walked in right after the boys were tucked out of sight, Bellatrix in tow. Nagini sat atop his shoulders and he was wearing his nice black robes. Bellatrix was wearing black robes as well, but had a mask obscuring her face. The Dark Lord then walked up to a chair that he had at the front of the room and sat down, looking as if he were waiting on something. Bella followed, standing at his left. A minute later a crack sounded and Lucius, adorned with his own skull mask, walked forward and stood at Voldemort's right.

Next thing they knew, other Death Eaters were popping into the room and gathering in front of the three adults. It seemed that the exact moment Harish wished to show his friends the meeting room, they got caught up in an actual meeting. He glanced at his friends. Draco was standing squashed up against the door peering out as well and looking rather smug that his own father was one of the two people the Dark Lord trusted. The twins, who were behind him, had a mixture of excitement and curiosity written all over their faces. Harish quickly turned his head back to the gap as a voice spoke out.

"What are they doing?" the twins whispered.

"Shut up!" Harish hissed as he strained to hear what his father was saying.

"Gibbon," he was saying. "Did you bring me your research?"

"Yes, my lord." Harish watched as Gibbon handed over some parchment to the Dark Lord.

The Dark Lord nodded before turning to another Death Eater. "Yaxley."

"My lord, I have found that the best time to invade would be in the Spring."

The four boys hiding in the cupboard glanced at each other. Invade?

"In the Spring," Voldemort announced, his lip curling in satisfaction. "I want to break into the ministry. Would any of you want to volunteer?" Bellatrix shot her hand up looking excited. "No one? Well, then I'll just choose one of you. How about—Rowle? I will speak with you about details closer to when I want to invade."

Bellatrix stuck her hand back down and looked down at the ground. And with that, the man went about listing things for Death Eaters to do and announcing some things that they may need to know. Then he dismissed everyone. After everyone had apparated out, he turned to Bella, who was still pouting.

"I need you here," he said to her, noticing her jutted lip. "I don't want you to get caught. Anyone who touches the prophesy would be killed."

She smirked at him. "Ah, and Rowle…?"

"His son nearly killed Harish."

Draco, Fred, and George all looked at Harish, who was looking quite shocked himself. His father must really care for him if he was sacrificing one of his Death Eaters just because the man's son had tried to kill him.

"Well," she said, smiling now. "I guess that's not too bad then." And she walked out of the room leaving Voldemort alone in the centre of the room.

The pale man then walked over to the cupboard and opened the door causing all four boys to fall on the floor.

"Next time you snoop in here, you need to be careful not to sit whispering," he said walking out of the room as well.

 _WHAT—WAIT-HE-DIDN'T-GROUND-ME-FOR-LIFE?_

Dumbledore sat in his office sipping tea, and once again enjoying the fact that all of the children were out of Hogwarts for a couple weeks. He was waiting for a staff meeting, which would be held in a couple minutes. The old man's mind wandered from topic to topic as he waited.

The Death Eaters had been rather lively this year, increasingly more so than last year. He had received news the day before of a break-in into the Department of Ministries. He had no idea what they would want out of there. Several things were of possibility and none of them were good. The professor popped a lemon drop into his mouth. After thinking on this for a few more seconds, his mind wandered to Severus. He had been rather quiet of late. The headmaster had no idea what would cause the sinister man to succumb to such a silence. He almost worried for the boy; he _was_ his most valuable spy after all.

Just after he popped another lemon drop he glanced up at his clock and watched the large hand strike six. It was finally time for the meeting. Pocketing another couple sweets, he left his office and made his way to the staff room. There Minerva, Severus, Pomona, and Filius were waiting for him. He sat down and began their meeting talking about the first years' progress. From the first years they moved to the second years.

"What do you think of Harish Blake?" Dumbledore asked.

"Well," Minerva said thoughtfully. "He is a very keen boy. He finishes all of his work in class, casts the spells perfectly, and does rather well on tests."

"Of course this isn't surprising," squeaked Flitwick. "Ever since he came here he was something of a prodigy. A such a polite boy too!"

"How do you mean?" Dumbledore asked, filling with dread.

"He always asks his questions thoughtfully and politely. Always thinking of his grades."

"He was one of the few students I have had that have caught mistakes in my directions," Snape said. "I believe that he may have been predisposed to tutoring in my subject, though he does have a natural aptitude for Potions."

Dumbledore reluctantly thought back to the first day the boy had come to the castle as the other teachers prattled happily about him. Blake, only months before his first year, had taken over the Potters' account in Gringotts. When he had been sorted into Slytherin, the headmaster quickly became uneasy. It seemed that not only was the dark boy in charge of a Light fortune, he was bearing several similarities to the Dark Lord Voldemort. If he didn't know that the warlord would be returning, he would've certainly thought that the boy may even become the next dark lord.

 _DARK-LORD-HAWISH—KING-OF-THE-PURPLE-MONKEYS!_

On Christmas morning Neville woke up and sat up to see a large piles of presents. Among them were a letter from Gran, a plain old quill from uncle Algie, a tin of sweets and a sweater from Mrs. Weasley, and a pack of self-shuffling cards from Ron. He was very excited when greeted upon the pile of presents and tore through them happily, Ron doing the same. After they opened every package, the two boys then went down to eat a nice breakfast of eggs and toast. Neville liked meals at the Weasley household. They were so much friendlier than the straight backed silence that his Gran had caused him to grow accustomed to.

"Where are your other brothers?" Neville asked as they began to make a snowman outside. "I thought you said you had five?"

Ron scowled. "I do," he said glumly. "But Fred and George, they're staying at a friend's."

"A friend's?" Neville asked.

"Blake. Son of a Death Eater, I'm sure. He convinced them to get sorted into Slytherin."

"How? What's the problem with that?"

"What's the—all Slytherins are evil that's what the problem is!" he floundered, restating his speech that he used on Ginny. It was the only argument he could seem to come up with. Neville had no way of knowing this of course. He just sat wondering exactly how evil this Blake was.

 _POOR-NEVILLE—TOO-SHUT-AWAY-IN-THAT-HOUSE-OF-OLD-PEOPLE_

On New Year's Eve the twins were shipped back to the Burrow and Harish neatened up to attend the annual New Year's party (which he had missed last year). Draco had insisted that he come, for he would not stand for his favourite cousin to not come yet another year.

Draco hated being stuck with the non-social lumps, Crabbe and Goyle, and the clingy Pansy Parkinson. He couldn't really _talk_ to them. Mainly because A: he was pretty sure Crabbe and Goyle could only mime and grunt, and B: Pansy always wanted to talk about girly things like hair and dolls. The boy shuddered at the thought of it.

When Harish arrived, he had happily dragged the older boy out to play some Quidditch before the others came, and before Lucius came raging madly onto the field, muttering darkly about immature boys and dress robes (they were wearing them in the air not on the grass!). Then they were scourgified and essentially locked in Draco's room until the party started.

Harish used that time to inform his friend on what he had missed. Draco seemed particularly interested in Hogsmeade and the boy's awe of his mentor was renewed. The two of them talked about what they had witnessed during the meeting as well, wondering what Voldemort was doing breaking into the Ministry. Eventually, after the fifth theory, Harish had shrugged and said that his father would tell him if he wished to.

Once the party _did_ start, they did this dance between being polite to adults, trying to get rid of Pansy, and talking amongst themselves in the corner. Harish was somewhat relieved when the Greengrasses got there. He liked to have a civil conversation every now and then, and Daphne was a mature enough girl to provide him with one. Draco slunk off and began talking to some man when the two oddballs started talking about politics and warfare. The rest of the party went by like this. Finally, they all left some time after midnight and it was a matter of waiting for school to start up again.

* * *

 **Now, tell me if you enjoyed the chapter! And here is your question: Will they win the Cup this year? I just like to see what you think, so R &R!**

 **~T.T.F.N**

 **(ta ta for now :)**


	19. Part 2: Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter (and I do believe Harish Blake is better)!**

* * *

 **Chapter Ten: In Which Dumbledore Takes Control**

Once again Albus Dumbledore sat in his office thinking. He was thinking particularly about Lord Voldemort. The headmaster wondered if Voldemort was rising or if Death Eater activity had just gone up for another reason. Pondering on this, suddenly the old wizard had a thought. Why wait to see if it was Voldemort? All he needed to do was lure to dark lord out into the open to find out. If he really was rising once again, he would find some way to catch onto the bait. The question was…what should he use as bait?

Dumbledore sat thinking still, wondering what the dark lord would need. If he was floating somewhere disembodied, he would want a body! And to get a body….Yes, Dumbledore knew exactly what he needed to do now. He picked up his quill and began writing a letter to an old friend.

 _DON'T-FALL-FOR-IT—HE'S-NOT-DISEMBODIED!_

The headmaster was walking up a neat stone path towards a small little cottage. It was surrounded by fields and flowers. The cottage was white with sky blue shutters. It was picture perfect. As Dumbledore walked up the door opened and an older man greeted him, a woman standing behind him.

"You said you wanted to meet with us, Professor Dumbledore?" the old man asked.

"Yes, Nicholas, I have a matter I must discuss with you," Dumbledore replied. Nicholas Flamel stood to the side to let him enter their home. His wife, Perenelle Flamel left to put on a pot of tea.

"Now, what is this all about?" Flamel asked after he and Dumbledore were seated in the sitting room.

"I have received an omen that you might be in danger," Dumbledore replied, placing his words carefully.

"Danger?" Flamel parroted.

"Indeed. I believe that Voldemort is rising again, trying to find a way to recover his body. As we both know you own a particular object that could be used for that purpose."

"You mean the stone?"

"Yes. I can offer you protection for the stone. If it is not here, there will be no reason for Voldemort to attack you and your wife."

Flamel rubbed his brow thoughtfully and sighed. After a minute he said, "That stone has brought nothing but trouble for me. I would be glad for you to take it off of my hands for a while."

"Then, it is settled then!" Dumbledore said, clapping his hands together. "If you could please ship it to Gringotts, I will have it transported from there to Hogwarts. I will make sure to regularly ship you elixir."

Flamel nodded. "Thank you, I will have it shipped by the end of summer."

"Goodbye, old friend," Dumbledore replied before standing up and taking his leave.

Of course, unknown to them, Voldemort still had his body and would have no need for any object that could give it to him. But that wasn't all, trouble was brewing. Trouble that would cause both sides to suffer. And there was no way Dumbledore could prevent it.

 _UH-OH—DUN-DUN-DUN!_

Neville had been disappointed when the holidays ended and he had been shipped back to his grandmother's house. He then would sit up in his room or in a window sill in order to avoid his grandmother and his great uncle. Ever since he had shown magic, Algie had taken to catching him off his guard to do something horrible to the boy.

On New Year's, the man had "accidently" shot a firework at his nephew. Luckily Neville had enough reflexes to jump out of the way. Then, in January, Neville had slipped on some ice that had mysteriously appeared underneath his feet. Only then had he turned around to see his uncle's face peering out a window, snickering at him. The boy had no idea why his uncle was tormenting him, but he couldn't wait until fall so that he could get away from the man.

The only time Neville would leave his room was when his grandmother would call him down so that they could visit his parents in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. When he was a baby his parents had been tortured into insanity by a couple of Death Eaters. That was the day after the Potters had died.

Ever since then, the boy would go to visit his parents every now and then. It was sad though, because they couldn't even remember who he was. Still, he thought that his mother improved some when he came to visit. On this particular day, Neville was sitting up in his bedroom, reading a book on magical plants when he heard his grandmother call, "Neville, come down here! We are due at St. Mungo's in five minutes!"

"Coming Gran!" he shouted back, gathering up his cloak and lacing up his shoes. Then, he bounded down the stairs two at a time and trotted into the sitting room.

There he was met by his grandmother, who was standing by the fireplace with her arm bent, a gesture for him to take hold. He did so as she was clucking disapprovingly at him, and then they apparated to the hospital.

Once there he glanced around. To most people, the sight of St. Mungo's would be a strange one indeed, but he had been there so many times he hardly took note of it. There were all kinds of witches and wizards milling about in the reception area. There were healers dressed in long, mint green robes. There were people with arms sprouting out their heads, there was a red-faced woman fanning herself with some paper who kept steaming through her ears, and a man nursing a hand that looked like it was bitten by some creature, which had swollen to the size of a quaffle.

The moment they got there, they edged around the people waiting at the front desk and headed for the fourth floor. That was where people who suffered from spell damage were sent. The Longbottoms were in the ward that housed permanent residents. Along with them was a witch who sported a rather furry head. She had come last year, though how she ended up half-dog Neville never found out. Even as they walked up to the door they heard her barks.

Neville straightened his robes before a kind-faced witch opened the door.

"Ah," she said. "Here to see the Longbottoms?" Neville nodded. "They've improved this past week. Alice keeps looking at that picture of Neville." With that she unlocked the door and let them in. Inside the ward were pictures and letters plastered on the wall above the dog-woman. There were flowery curtains set up around Neville's parents' beds.

Neville had pictures of his parents from when they were aurors. He looked a lot like his mum; they both had plump, round faces. The boy had the same cheerful expression and build from his dad. The years hadn't been kind to them, however. Alice's round, cheerful face was now long, thin and worn. Her thick brown hair was now white and wispy. Frank wasn't any better. He was much thinner than he used to be and he would lie in his bed, muttering at the ceiling.

Neville sat down in a chair between their beds and began talking to them. He always told them everything about his life. The boy's hopes rose when he thought he saw his mother smile at him when he started talking. Today he was telling them about his new friend, Ron. He had just gotten to the point in telling them about the candy Ron gave him for Christmas when Alice started, looking as if she just remembered something.

She sat up a little and beckoned silently for Neville to come closer. He came forward and cupped his hands in front of him. She dropped a Drooble's Best Gum wrapper into his hands and he slipped it into his pocket, planning on add it to the collection of things his mother gave to him. After several hours and two more candy wrappers, Neville and his Gran left. Augusta shook her head sadly as he returned back to his bedroom and hung the wrappers on the wall above his desk.

 _POOR-NEVILLE—NOT-AUGUSTA-MIND-YOU_

As February moved to April the castle was battered by heavy rains. It got so bad that the Quidditch match that took place on the fourth of February lasted really long, because neither Seeker could find the Snitch until it flew up Cedric Diggory's sleeve, causing Hufflepuff to win and putting Slytherin in the lead.

Finally the rain let up, but no one could enjoy the sunshine because work was piling up once again as the Easter holidays grew nearer. The trio had precious little time to do anything other than school work. Still, Harish found time to search for the Chamber and the twins found time to pull pranks somehow.

A week before the break Harish received a letter telling him to spend the holidays with Draco, though he didn't object. The boys couldn't wait until the break actually came, for then at least they wouldn't have work for another week and a half. Well, until Professor McGonagall burst their fantastical bubbles.

"—make sure you actually write this essay"—she shot the twins a look—"I expect to see it on my desk first thing on the twenty eighth."

"But Professor," Terrence Higgs said. "That's right after the holiday."

"Yes, it is," McGonagall replied simply.

"But the break starts tomorrow!" Adrian Pucey exclaimed looking quite horrified.

"Yes, and I'm sure you will spend the day starting your essay."

As class let out, everyone gathered their things together while they grumbled to each other. "I'm not doing it," George said.

"I was so looking forward to not having work!" Fred exclaimed.

"I'm just gonna do it all on the train ride to get it over with," Harish said as they walked out of the classroom.

"I guess…" the twins trailed off pathetically.

Harish shook his head. "Though one thing is for certain."

"What?"

"We at least get to enjoy sleeping in."

 _SLEEP—GLORIOUS-SLEEP!_

Thorfinn Rowle walked through a dazzling bright room, stopping at a door. Creeping underneath it was eerie blue light. He grinned and opened the door slowly. The door revealed a tall room filled with shelves and shelves of glowing blue orbs. He glanced at one of the shelves where 53 glimmered in silver print. His breathing was fast as he whispered to himself, "Eighty four…eighty five…"

Finally he stopped at row ninety seven. He eagerly reached out a hand for a the small orb that sat on that shelf. On a label it said, _S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D. Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter_. Eager to please his master, he grabbed it…and emitted a loud scream. His hand felt as if it were on fire and slowly the pain spread up his arm and into his entire body. As he fell over on the ground his hand went limp and the prophesy rolled under the shelf, forgotten. He hardly even realized when aurors, unspeakables, and ministry officials all came in and herded him to a room for questioning. By the time they reached the Department of Mysteries, he had already gone insane.

* * *

 **And the plot thickens! You weren't expecting that, were you? If you weren't, R &R! If you were, well you must be as crazy as I am! Speaking of crazy, here's my crazy question of the chapter: guessing that you know what prophecy Rowle picked up, what did it say?**

 **TTFN** **!**


	20. Part 2: Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven: Madness in the Ministry**

It was just after the Easter holidays and everyone was on the train, back from their different homes. In different compartments there were copies of the Prophet everywhere all sporting the same headline. People were asking each other the same question. "Did you hear what happened over the holidays?" There were however, two people that weren't affected by the strange happenings at the ministry.

One was at home, riding his new broomstick and the other was sitting alone in a compartment in the back of the train. They were Draco Malfoy and Harish Blake. Harish turned as Fred and George entered the compartment. Fred was also carrying a newspaper. across the top of the page in large black words was the headline:

 _ **Ministry Break-In: Death Eater Apprehended**_

Harish didn't even have the need to ask to see the paper to find out what the headline meant. "So," George said as they sat down. Both red-heads casually crossed their right leg over their left. Fred leaned back and George tilted his head to the left.

"What did you do over the Easter holidays?"

 _Four days earlier:_

"Harish!"

A low, annoyed moan sounded from underneath a pillow.

"Harish!"

Harish groaned and slit one eye open. "What do you want Draco?"

"Father wants us."

Harish nodded slowly. He had been sent home with Draco for the holidays because his father was going to be busy all break. The older boy still didn't understand why that blonde cretin thought it was acceptable to wake people up by shouting their name _happily_.

He laid there for another moment before getting up and pulling on a bed robe. Then, he followed Draco downstairs to where Lucius was.

"Harish!" Lucius called importantly. "Draco!"

"Yes, Uncle Lucius?" he asked politely.

"Yes, Father?" Draco asked at the same time.

"I have something I must tell you both."

"Yes?" Harish and Draco asked together.

"Narcissa is out shopping and I just received an urgent call from the ministry."

"Urgent call?" both boys repeated.

"Nothing of importance, or course," Lucius said smoothly. "I just need to be there and I can't leave you two here alone. So, I need you two to smarten yourselves up, for you are coming with me."

"Really? To the Ministry?' Draco asked eagerly.

Harish shook his head and began climbing the staircase to put on some decent clothes. Draco soon followed and the two of them got dressed as quickly as possible. Then Draco stampeded downstairs; Harish followed with much more grace. Finally Lucius apparated the two of them

As soon as they got there, Harish could tell that whatever called Lucius to the Ministry was certainly of importance. He could hear screams and shouts. They seemed to be in an office that was no doubt Lucius'. There was a desk, one high backed chair, one rickety chair on the other side of the desk, and two neat stacks of paper.

A man came skidding into the room and panting heavily exclaimed, "We've just apprehended a man from the Department of Mysteries! The Minister wants everyone to check the perimeter to make sure no one else got in!"

Lucius looked concerned at this news and commanded as he followed the man out, "Stay here!"

The two boys looked at each other. After a second, Draco plopped himself on the rickety chair and Harish made his way around the desk. He sat in the chair and propped his feet up on the desk. After a minute of silence Harish said nonchalantly, "You know I've always wanted to know what was in the Department of Mysteries."

Five minutes later found them running through deserted corridors. "So," Draco panted quietly as they reached the lift. "Do—you—do—this—sort of thing….often?"

Harish couldn't help it. He laughed. "Yes, Draco…"

"…It's a daily occurrence," he said after a minute.

"What is?"

"Breaking the rules."

The lift bumped to a halt and a woman's voice echoed through the lift. " _Department of Mysteries._ "

The two boys stepped off together. Ahead was a plain black door. As Harish stepped forward, it swung open and he walked through it.

They were standing in a large circular room. Everything was black including the floor and ceiling—identical, unmarked, handle-less black doors were set at intervals all around the black walls, interspersed with candles that burned blue.

"Shut the door," Harish told Draco. His cold, smooth voice echoed about the room.

As the door clicked shut, they were instantly plunged into darkness. All Harish could see were the blue flames on the walls, and his and Draco's faces reflected off of the shimmering black floors. There were a dozen doors and as the two boys observed them, wondering which one to go through, they began spinning.

For a few seconds the blue flames were blurred into a neon line as the wall sped around and then, just as silently as it started, the doors stopped. All Harish could see were the blue streaks that had been burned into his eyes.

"I think," he said quietly. "They don't want us to know which door we came in."

"How are we going to get out?" Draco asked, his voice going up in pitch.

Harish simply shrugged and walked forward and inside one of the doors.

"Uh—" Draco said, not moving from the centre of the room.

"Are you going to stay there all by yourself?" Harish asked. There was a moment of silence before Draco came bolting through the door as well.

Their eyes were met by a brilliant sparkling light. It took a few seconds for their eyes to get used to the light, but when they did all Harish saw were clocks…everywhere. They walked slowly through the desks, glancing around and heading toward a crystal bell jar that was quite taller than they were and appeared to be full of a billowing, glittering wind.

" _Look_ ," Draco said, pointing at the heart of the bell jar.

Drifting along in the sparkling current was a tiny egg. As it rose in the jar it cracked open and a hummingbird emerged, which was carried to the top of the jar but as it fell it became bedraggled and damp again, and by the time it came back to the bottom of the jar it was an egg once again.

They stopped to watch it, the younger boy becoming entranced. Harish glanced over to see a door at the end of the room.

"Where does this go?" he asked, walking towards it.

Draco tore his eyes away from the bird to see Harish open the door. Not wanting to be abandoned again, he trotted over. The two boys walked down aisle after aisle of glowing orbs. For some odd reason Harish felt compelled to go forward; almost like something of importance lied within one of the shelves. They passed row after row, finally coming to a halt at row ninety seven.

Harish looked around and as he turned to go back down the aisle he saw something out of the corner of his eye. The was a faint blue glow coming from under the shelf. "What's this?" he asked quietly, pulling the orb out from underneath the shelf with his toe. "A prophesy."

He bent over to pick it up, but Draco's frightened voice rang out, "Don't touch it! You'll go insane!"

His hand froze inches above the prophesy. "Someone's already touched it," he said after thinking for a second. "That's why your father was called here. If it's already been picked up off the shelf, the protection won't work anymore."

With that Harish closed his hand around the orb and picked it up. A voice, harsh and ragged echoed through his ears: _The one with the power to vanquish the most powerful wizard of our time approaches…"_ Harish's stomach plummeted. Whoever the ministry apprehended didn't take just any old prophesy. It was the prophesy he had heard about at the beginning of the year. _"Born to those who thrice defied the Dark Lord, born as the seventh month dies…"_ It was the prophesy against his father. Then, he had a feeling that he didn't pick up this orb by mistake. There was every possibility that Voldemort had been trying to get it.

"Boys!" Harish jumped and looked around wildly, spotting Lucius walking up from the door they had come through. Instinctively, he shoved the prophesy into his pocket. "There you are! We've been looking all over—haven't any idea how this looks—no matter—come with me…"

He grabbed their shoulders and steered them out of the room, out of the Department of Mysteries, and to the grates where they flooed to Malfoy manor. Immediately from there, Lucius made Harish floo to his own home. When he stumbled out of the fireplace, he saw his father standing with his back to him, his arms crossed behind his back.

When the Dark Lord heard the fireplace die back down, he turned around and looked straight into Harish's eyes. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, but other than that he showed no emotion, and that was what frightened Harish the most.

"Lucius told me what happened," he stated. Harish bowed his head. "The prophecy."

Harish looked up, startled. Voldemort was standing there with a hand outstretched.

"How did you know?" Harish asked as he placed it in his father's palm.

Voldemort actually smiled. "I know you better than you think, my son."

 _Present day:_

"You mean—"

"He actually set that up?" the twins asked after Harish finished his whole tale.

Harish nodded. "I think it was some sort of test. Also revenge on Rowle. But I think he wanted to see if I would retrieve the prophecy if I was there. That's even why I spent the holiday with Draco."

The twins mouths formed perfect O's.

"You're dad's—" George said.

"Really…" Fred trailed off, uncertain for the right word.

"Slytherin?" Harish supplied.

"Yeah…" both twins agreed.

 _THE-GREAT-ALL—KNOWING-LORD-VOLDEMORT!_

For a good while the ministry break-in was all anyone talked about. It put the entire Wizarding World into a state of panic. After Voldemort's "defeat" the everyone was lulled into a sense of false security. They celebrated, they forgot all about the statue of secrecy, and eventually they even forgot that they never found the Dark Lord's body. Then, years later when a Death Eater was apprehended _inside the Ministry of Magic_ , the people began wondering if something was going on.

But, as all things go in and out of fashion, students began to talk about it less and less as exams grew nearer. By May Harish was rather glad that no one wanted to ask his opinion on why a Death Eater was even in the Ministry. They were so piled with homework that it came as such a relief. Harish spent hours on end studying in the library. The twins studied a little, but they were so easily distracted that they often ran off to do other things.

On top of that, they also had to decide which classes to take. This, Harish knew, would be important for whichever class he took, it would contribute to what job he had when he was an adult. Several kids made a _really_ big fuss out of it, but some just closed their eyes, pointed their wand at a piece of parchment, and chose the class it landed on.

Also, everyone in Slytherin were trying to give Harish advice. One person would say, "You need to take Divination! You'll never know when you want to take a look at what your future might hold!" and then another person would say, "No, Divination is just a joke. What you really want to do is Arithmancy." Finally Harish got fed up with it and nearly hexed the last person that tried to give him advice. Eventually, the three boys all settled on Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, and Divination. Harish didn't really like the idea of Divination and he would have taken Muggle Studies instead, but he was sure his father would kill him if he knew his son was learning about Muggles.

At the end of May was the final match between Slytherin and Hufflepuff. The Slytherin team, now most definitely unbeatable, flattened Hufflepuff two hundred points to ten. Harish was treated as a hero at the party that took place shortly afterward.

Finally exams were upon them and they spent their days taking an exam, studying for the next one, taking _that_ exam, and then studying all night for the two they would take the next day. Harish was pretty confident that he scored well on all of them by the time it was the last day of school. At the feast it was announced that Slytherin had yet again won the house cup and they went to sleep in their beds for the last time that year. The next day, after confirming that the twins would correspond with him to see about getting together, Harish finally said a miserable goodbye and they parted ways, ready for the next year to come. The year that Draco would finally join them at Hogwarts.

 _YAY—DRACO!_

" _Anger, anger is all I feel. They did this to us, this is their fault. I need revenge. This is all their fault. Revenge, revenge is what I need."_

A thin hand pointed to a recent newspaper of the break-in at the Ministry. This one Dumbledore spoke about it, saying that it was no big deal to get worried about, but later in the article the reporter started going on about how everyone now suspected that " _You-Know-Who is behind this_."

" _They did this to me. They will pay. Angry….Anger…"_

* * *

 **You got to see a bit of what I call Voldie-omniscience (or basically Voldemort manipulating every circumstance that Harish is involved in where it makes him seem like he knows everything). And, of course, you got a glimpse at our main villain! Now, take a wild guess...who could it possibly be? You may not know for a long time, but if you R &R you might find out faster ;)**

 **~TTFN**


	21. Part 3: Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...**

 **Ah, doesn't it feel nice to be reading the first chapter of part three? It definitely feels nice posting it. Anywho, enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

 **Chapter One: Burrow of Red Bunnies**

One fine summer day found four boys outside running around. Harish Blake and Draco Malfoy were spending the rest of the summer vacation at Fred and George Weasley's house for the remaining two weeks. This was going to be the first year Draco was going off to Hogwarts along with his life-long friend, Harish. He had turned eleven early that year, only a month before the twins turned thirteen. It had taken a lot of pleading and scheming to manage to get Lucius Malfoy let Draco stay at the Weasleys and vice versa, so they were enjoying being together very much.

"Harish!" Draco whined as the older boy grabbed his legs to pull him down.

"Wait up!" rang out the voices of the twins.

"I'm gonna win!" Harish cackled.

He slid to a stop, rolling down a grassy and sunlit hill, and held up an orange and now completely battered poster. The four boys had stolen a belonging of the twins' brother Ron's and were racing to see who could get over the hill the quickest.

The other three skidded to a halt beside him after another second, just as some annoyed shouts rang through the old house.

"Where's my Chudley Cannons poster?" Ron shouted.

"Hurry," Draco said as the three older boys pulled out their wands and began turning the poster green.

They heard a bang and a red head was just visible over the hill. Then another head, this one brown, followed.

"Come on guys! I know you have it! Give it back or I'll—"

"Distract him," Harish said, turning to block the poster out of view. Draco nodded and climbed back up the hill.

"I'll—" the immature eleven-year-old repeated.

"You'll what, Weasley? Stutter at me?" Draco drawled, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Where's my poster?" Ron asked forcefully.

Draco flicked a piece of dust off of his robes, keeping one hand behind his back. "Honestly," he sneered. "Didn't you ever learn manners? Or were just too stupid to be capable?" Ron's ears turned pink. The twins shot each other a grin as I continued on, "Why would you think I have your filthy poster?"

"Because you're here and it's not."

The blonde boy brought his other hand out from behind his back and showed them both to the other boy. The three thirteen-year-old wizards behind them finished up their work, shrunk the poster, and Harish slipped it into his pocket. Then they ran up to Draco.

"There you are, Draco," Harish said, panting.

"What held you up?"

"Oh, nothing," Draco replied before smirking at Ron and following them into the house.

"C'mon," Ron mumbled to his friend, Neville. "Let's just go back."

Neville nodded and they went back into the Burrow and climbed up to the very top were Ron's room was located. Then, Ron threw open his door and plopped himself on his bed.

"I don't believe it," Neville heard him say just as he walked into the room.

"What?" Neville asked.

Ron pointed up and Neville followed his gaze. Plastered to the ceiling was a green poster that said, _"Slytherin Rules"_ at the top where it used to say, _"Chudley Cannons"_. At the bottom it also read, _"Chudley Cannons stink"_.

"Those slimy gits," Ron said angrily. "I know they did this."

Neville nodded.

 _BE-ANGRY-AND—ACCUSE-NOT-OF-OTHERS_

"My lord," one of the Death Eaters said to Voldemort in a meeting one day. "We have learned of an object in which you would be interested in."

"Yes? What is this _'object'_?"

"In grants eternal life…" and the wizard told the Dark Lord all about it. When he was finished, Voldemort nodded approvingly.

"Get me that stone."

 _OOOH—WHAT-STONE-IS-THIS-YOU-SPEAK-OF?_

The next morning they were all gathered around the table eating breakfast. Ginny ran downstairs looking for her hair brush, spotted Harish, squeaked, and ran back upstairs. The twins snickered and Draco looked really confused. While they were finishing up their breakfast, something flew into the window with a loud bang.

Ron sighed and said, "I'll get him." Then he walked over, opened the window, and carried in their decrepit owl, Errol. After a second two more owls flew up, one was Augustus, Voldemort's owl, and the other one was bearing four letters with the Hogwarts crest on them. One dropped on Percy's lap and the other three dropped into the trio's laps.

Harish opened the envelope from his father and pulled out a letter and some sort of form. On the letter it simply said, _Enclosed is a slip of paper giving you permission to Hogsmeade. Do not misuse this allowance, or you will not be allowed to go next year._ Then on the form it said, _I, Anata Thomas Blake give Harish Blake my full permission to visit the village Hogsmeade._

Harish then moved onto his letter from Hogwarts. The first piece of parchment read:

 _Dear Mr Blake,_

 _Please note that the new school year will begin on September first.. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross Station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock._

 _Third years are permitted to visit the village Hogsmeade on certain weekends. A permission from was sent to your parents and you must have it signed to enter the village._

 _A list of books for next year is enclosed._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Professor McGonagall_

Harish looked up to see the others holding their own list of school books. Mrs. Weasley leaned over Percy's shoulder to read it and then finally said, "I think it's about time to pay a visit to Diagon Alley. I think Ron can have Bill's old robes and Charlie's wand, but I still need to buy him books."

Mr. Weasley replied, "That's fine. I have to go into work though. The ministry's been in an uproar ever since the break-in, what with Rita Skeeter running around."

"Skeeter?" Fred asked.

"What's she saying now?" George finished.

"Saying that the Ministry doesn't have a tight enough security. It caused an uproar. All kinds of people sent in Howlers for a couple months afterwards."

The twins shot Harish a look and Draco shoved food into his mouth quickly. Harish started. He hadn't realized that the Ministry was still having to deal with the repercussions of the prophesy being stolen. He wondered if they knew that it was missing. Then he realized something else.

"Wait, you work in the Ministry of Magic?" he asked Mr. Weasley.

"Yup," the twins answered for him.

"He works in the Misuse—"

"Of Muggle Artefacts office."

Percy was in the process of pulling out a purple badge with a 'P' on it when Mrs. Weasley threw herself on him. Everyone at the table turned to look on curiously.

"You're a Prefect?" she squealed. Percy's ears were now turning bright red. "Oh, I'm so proud of you! This deserves a reward! Do you want an owl? Ron's in need of a pet; he can have Scabbers."

Percy nodded before throwing out his chest proudly. The twins and Harish gagged while the rest of the table snickered.

So after breakfast Mrs. Weasley, Percy, Fred, George, Harish, Draco, Ron, and Neville all gathered around the fireplace and they all flooed over to Diagon Alley to buy their school supplies. Mrs. Weasley, who already had money out of the bank, split money between her three eldest sons and went with Ron to buy his things. Neville had his allowance and followed Ron, but Harish was in need of money.

Harish, Draco, and the twins agreed to meet outside the bank and Harish went in to get money. The boy received rather odd looks from goblin and people alike when he said that he wanted to draw money from the Potter account, but he paid it no mind. After he gathered his money, he met the twins where they had agreed, but soon the three of them stopped short.

"Is that the gamekeeper?" Draco drawled suddenly.

"I say—"

"It is!" the twins exclaimed.

"I wonder what he's doing here," Harish said, craning his neck to look at him.

The thirteen-year-old pulled out his invisibility cloak and pulled it around the four of them. They crept closer and Harish strained to hear the giant's conversation with a shopkeeper.

"Ah, Hagrid! Would you like the new stock of fertilizer we've had shipped from Peru?"

"No, I can' I'm 'fraid that I'm here on urgent business."

"Who for?"

The four boys moved so close that if Hagrid stepped to the side slightly Draco would have been trampled as the giant's voice reduced to a harsh whisper.

"P'fesser Dumbledore. But I can' tell ye no more. It's top secret, it is."

And the gamekeeper strode off towards the bank.

Harish pulled off the cloak and the three boys stepped into Madam Malkin's. "What was that all about?" the twins asked.

"I have no idea," Draco replied quietly as he smoothed down his hair.

"It seems as though our dear Professor Dumbledore is having something taken to Hogwarts," Harish said.

"How do you know that?"

"Well, he's here on Dumbledore's orders heading to Gringotts. I don't know what else you could deduce from those facts."

"But what is he—"

Harish suddenly elbowed Fred in the ribs as he realized that Ron and Neville were in the shop waiting to be fitted as well. Ron had just shot them a weird look and seemed to be eavesdropping on them. They stood there in silence for a minute until Madam Malkin came bustling out of the back room.

"Are you all being fitted for Hogwarts robes?"

Harish nodded. "Those three are first years."—he gestured towards Ron, Neville, and Draco—"They can go first."

"You first dear?" she asked, taking Ron's arm ready to steer him over to a stool.

"Oh, no," his ears turned bright red. "I'm going to be wearing my brother's. I'm just here with Neville."

She nodded and dragged Neville over to a stool instead. She started fixing him up and her assistant did Draco. When Neville was done, he and Ron hurried out of the shop and Harish was dragged over to be fitted for new robes. When all four were done (for Harish insisted on buying new robes for the twins as he had _way_ too much money stored away) they went and bought all of the rest of their school supplies.

Then, they left and returned back to the Burrow. They only had a week left until school started, each day the four boys eagerly checking another day off of their calendars.

* * *

 **That Hagrid, just blabbin' away! But he is very convenient for figuring out what Dumbledore is up to so...**

 **Three questions: What stone** _ **was**_ **Voldemort referring to? What will Dumbledore do next to Neville, his new Golden Boy? What house do you think the main characters in cannon will be sorted into? R &R!**

 **~TTFN**


	22. Part 3: Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

 **Has anyone ever experienced that moment where the internet deletes your changes to a chapter? :[ Sometimes it can be infuriating...**

* * *

 **Chapter Two: Of Miniature Bellatrixes and Sortings of Kind**

On September first there was a big scramble to leave. People bustled up and down the staircase with trunks and Draco tripped Ron when they were both halfway down. The twins shrunk Harish's brand new Nimbus 2000 and stuck it in George's trunk. Percy started shouting that he couldn't find his Prefect badge and glared at the twins the rest of the morning when he found it behind the toilet. People pulled on clothes, combed their hair, and searched frantically for their shoes.

Finally they had all had breakfast and they climbed into Mr. Weasley's brand new (but old and dusty looking) Ford Angela. They made it to platform nine and three-quarters with five minutes to spare. When they did arrive, Harish chose a compartment along with the twins and Draco at the back of the train. Ron noticed and booked himself one on the opposite end. They hoisted their trunks on top of the rack and finally the train started moving as everyone poked their heads out of the windows to say goodbye to their families. Ginny ran alongside their car laughing and crying. George stuck his head out the window.

"Don't worry, Ginny! We'll send you a toilet seat!"

And the last thing they heard before they were out of the station was, "George!"

 _ONLY-JOKING-MUM—KEEP-YOUR-HAIR-ON!_

Ron looked out the window at the city buildings that were going by. Finally, he dragged his eyes away and looked at his friend, Neville.

"So how does it feel to finally be going to Hogwarts?"

Neville thought for a minute. "I'm nervous. I don't know what Gran would do if I ended up in Hufflepuff, but I'm sure I will."

"Nah," Ron assured him. "I think you're plenty brave enough to be in Gryffindor. You just have to think that you can end up there."

Neville nodded.

"Scabbers!" Ron said suddenly. He pulled the plump rat out of a brown bag. "That's my lunch!" Scabbers didn't seem to notice and kept chewing on corned beef. "Yeah, you feel bad about having a toad? Try owning a dumb rat that was handed down to you from your older brother."

"Hey, where is Trevor?" Neville asked all of a sudden. He glanced around the compartment, but couldn't see his toad in sight.

"I dunno…I'm sure he'll turn up though."

Neville was in the process of searching through his trunk when the compartment door slid open. A girl with rather bushy hair stepped in.

"What are you doing in here?" Ron asked.

"I was just looking for somewhere to sit," she replied defensively.

There was a bang and Neville pulled his head out from under his seat, rubbing it furiously. "Hey you haven't seen a toad, have you?" he asked.

"Sorry?" the girl said.

"Have you seen a toad? I can't find mine…"

"No…What's your name? I'm Hermione Granger."

"Neville Longbottom."

"Oh, I've read about you! My family started buying your newspaper, and you were in several articles. I think the Wizarding world is fascinating. I didn't know I was a witch until I got my letter. But when I did, I was ever so pleased. What house do you think you'll be in? Never mind, I'll go and see if I can find your toad…" she said it all in one breath, but then walked towards the door. Then she turned back and said to Ron, "Oh, you've got dirt on your nose by the way. Did you know?" and she left.

"Whatever house I'm in," Ron said after she left. "I hope she's not in it."

Neville didn't know what to say, but Ron was his only friend so he just decided on agreeing with him.

 _PEER-PRESSURE—IT'S-snort-NO-JOKE_

When the trolley arrived, Harish and Draco just about emptied it with all of their money they had. Then they sat talking as they ate their candy. They finally got back on the subject of Hagrid.

"I still wonder what's at Hogwarts though," Harish sighed staring out the window. The sky was clear and they were currently passing by rows and rows of fields. There would certainly be ideal weather for when that year's first years go over on the lake.

Just then the door to their compartment slid open. A girl with bushy brown hair stuck her head in and opened her mouth imperiously. She froze as she saw that she had just entered a compartment of boys; tall, thirteen-year-old boys no less. Then she asked nervously, "Have any of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one."

Harish snorted. "Neville? I don't doubt that."

"You know him?" she asked more confidently this time.

"He's our brother's—"

"Friend," the twins said.

She nodded and made her way to close the door, but Harish's smooth voice stopped her.

"What house are you wanting to go into?"

"Gryffindor. All the greatest wizards went into Gryffindor. Like Professor Dumbledore. He's the headmaster."

Harish nodded. He could practically sense the thirst that she possessed to prove herself. Yes, she had ambition to rival Slytherin himself, he was sure.

"I'm not so sure about that," he said. "I know many great men that were in other houses, but if that's where you want to go," he shrugged. "What's your name?"

"Hermione Granger."

"Oh, well my name is Harish and this is Fred, George, and Draco. Why are you walking around the train anyway?"

"I was helping Neville find his toad."

"Do you not—"

"Have anywhere to sit?"

"If you don't, you can sit here," Harish offered.

"Oh, no I wouldn't want to bother you," and she left.

Harish waited until she was out of earshot before saying, "Now that I've planted doubt in her mind, let's see where she'll actually end up."

 _OOH—EVIL-SCHEMING-GENIUSES!_

When Hermione left Harish's compartment, she walked along the train asking more people if they had seen Neville's toad. When no toad was found she walked up to the conductor and asked him how long it would be until they arrived at Hogwarts. They were only an hour away. She returned back to the corridor as two burly boys ran past her, howling.

The bushy haired girl returned to Ron and Neville's compartment to see them two boys standing up, the red-haired one holding his rat in his hands.

"You two haven't been fighting have you?" she asked.

"No, it was Scabbers doing the fighting, not us."

"You two better change into your robes then. I've just been up to speak to the conductor, and I expect we should arrive soon."

"Well, do you mind leaving while we change?" Ron asked just as rudely.

"I only came in here because people are behaving childishly and racing up and down the corridors," she sniffed. With that she left once again and chose to sit in the compartment that was full of other girls her age. One girl, with plain hair, talked with her a little. Finally after half-listening to several conversations about hair potions, they pulled to a stop.

The group of girls were herded and pushed out onto the station where they got lost in the number of students. At least until a giant lantern came bobbing over the crowd towards them. Following the giant lantern was a giant man who was calling, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there?"

Hermione turned to see Neville and Ron standing behind her. Neville, who was a bit pale, nodded but didn't open his mouth. The giant had small beetle-black eyes that were nearly hidden under a mass of wild hair.

"C'mon, follow me—any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

And so they all stumbled after him, slipping on particularly steep bits of pathway. It was so dark on either side of them that Hermione thought that there must be thick trees. No one spoke much. Neville kept sniffling every now and then.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," the giant called over his shoulder, "Jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many towers.

"No more'n four a boat!" the giant called as he climbed into one himself. He took up the whole thing. Hermione looked at the black lake to discover that there were several more little boats. She spotted the blonde haired boy who was in the compartment with Harish earlier. His name was Draco unless Hermione was mistaken. The girl with bushy hair climbed into a boat after him. Draco looked at her oddly, but didn't say anything. Two girls also got into the boat with them. One had brown hair and a pug like face, and the other was the plain haired girl with grey eyes.

"Ugh, Draco," the pug faced girl said to the boy. "There's a Mudblood in our boat."

Hermione's heart sank. She had no idea what Mudblood meant, but she was sure it wasn't a compliment. Still Draco said nothing. The other girl, however, leaned forward and smiled.

"Don't mind Pansy," the girl said to her and holding out her hand to shake. "My name is Daphne."

"Hermione," she replied forcing a smile and shaking her hand.

And they rode the rest of the way across the lake in silence. They all stared up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed closer to the cliff on which it stood. "HEADS DOWN!" the giant shouted as the first boats reached the cliff. They all bent their heads down and they were carried through a curtain of ivy. The little boats floated along a dark tunnel until they all bumped to a halt at the gravelly bank. All of the children clambered out and gathered behind Hagrid.

"Oy, you there! Is this yer toad?" Hagrid called, who was checking the boats as people climbed out.

"Trevor!" Neville exclaimed gratefully, holding out his hands. Then they trotted up the path after the man's lamp, coming onto the smooth, damp grass right in front of the castle. They walked up a flight of steps and crowded around the huge front door.

"Everyone here? You still got yer toad?" and with that the giant raised a ginormous fist and knocked on the great oak door.

The door swung open at once and the giant greeted a tall witch with black hair pulled into a tight bun.

"Firs' years, Professor McGonagall."

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

The entrance hall was so big, you could have probably fit Hermione's whole house in it. All of the first years gaped and stared around as they followed Professor McGonagall inside and walked across the flagged stone floor. Hermione could hear many voices as they passed another set of grand doors. She figured that the rest of the school must have been through there. But instead of going in there, they were led straight past the doors and into a small chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing very close together, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said. "The start-of-term feast is about to start, but before you take your seats you must be sorted into your houses. The four houses are called Gryffindor," Ron smiled encouragingly at Neville. "Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you points, and any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house points, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

"The Sorting Ceremony will begin in a few minutes, I suggest you smarten up while you wait."

Her lingered a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear and Ron's nose, which was still smudged. Hermione nervously ran a hand through her hair, attempting to battle the mess of tangles that caught on her fingers. It was brown, though it was so dark that some people could possibly mistake it for being black.

"I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly," and she strode out of the room.

Hermione saw Neville swallow nervously. "How exactly do they sort us?" he asked Ron.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot but that's the kind of thing he would joke about."

"What, pain?" Neville asked incredulously and Ron nodded.

Hermione, who had no idea who the boys were talking about, turned to Daphne. "Is that true?" she asked.

"Of course not," she replied. "How could they test us if we haven't even learned anything yet?"

Hermione nodded. That seemed perfectly logical.

Suddenly several people screamed. The two girls turned around to see about twenty ghosts streaming through the wall into the room. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying, "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance—"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name, you know, and he's not really even a ghost—I say, what are all of you doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years. No one answered.

"New students!" the Fat Friar said, smiling around at them. "About to be sorted I suppose?"

A few people, Hermione included, nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" the Friar exclaimed. "It was my old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now form a line and follow me."

Hermione then began to feel nervous as they followed the professor out of the room and through the doors they had passed earlier. She had never imagined such a place. There were four great candles, each lit by candles that were floating in mid-air. The high ceiling did not seem to be made of stone, but the sky above. Each of the tables were set with golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers sat. Professor McGonagall led them up there and they gathered around a stool were an old, frayed hat sat.

Hermione saw several students looking up at the ceiling and she whispered, "It's bewitched to look like the night sky. I read about it in _Hogwarts: A History._ "

Then her gaze fell back on the frayed hat. And so did everyone else's as its brim twitched and it began to sing. It sang about the four houses and about how it was made to sort the students of Hogwarts. Around her, students breathed sighs of relief. She still couldn't believe that they thought they would be forced to take some painful test. Finally its song ended and Professor McGonagall stepped forward.

"When I call your name, you will put on the Sorting Hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbot, Hannah!"

A girl with round, pink face and pig tails slipped the hat over her head and it cried out, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The table that Hermione assumed was the Hufflepuff table began cheering and Hannah went over to sit with them.

"Bones, Susan."

A moment's pause—

"HUFFELPUFF!" and Susan scuttled of to sit with Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!" the table second from the left cheered this time and Terry went and joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" was sorted into Ravenclaw as well, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. After that was "Finch-Fletchley, Justin" who was sorted into Hufflepuff.

Finally Hermione started as her named was called. She hesitated for a moment before running and jabbing the hat over her head, eager to get it over with.

 _Well what have we here?_ said a little voice in her head.

" _Can you read my mind?"_ she thought.

 _To some extent. Just enough to know where you would do best._ The hat answered. _You are very ambitious, very smart, and somewhat brave. You could be put into any of the houses really._

" _What about Gryffindor?"_ she asked. _"Many great wizards came from Gryffindor."_

But then she remembered Harish said to her on the train, "I'm not so sure about that…I know many great men from other houses."

 _He's right you know._ The hat told her. _You can't let what someone else did dictate what you do. You could be great no matter where I put you._

" _Why not Gryffindor? Just to be curious."_

 _They don't value education there. You would stick out like a sore thumb with your ambition and love of books._

" _Well, could you put me somewhere where I already have friends?"_ she asked.

 _All right…better be..._ "SLYTHERIN!"

Hermione took off the hat and walked over to the Slytherin table. As she approached it, she noticed that there was no space among the older students for anyone to slip in. The only spots available to first years were on the ends of the tables. She wondered why that was when none of the other houses did that. The dark-haired girl shrugged and made her way to the end of the table closest. Just as she was about to sit down, she heard:

" _Pst!"_

Hermione looked around and saw Harish point at her before pointing across from him and then he made a summoning motion. The people who were sitting across from the third year noticed as well and the entire house moved to the sides to make room for her to sit across from the boy. Confused and wary, Hermione felt that she had no choice but to sit across from the boy. So she got up and made her way over, earning glares from other students at her end of the table. She stuck her nose in the air, determined not to care what they thought, and sat delicately in the newly vacated seat.

"I see you got sorted into my noble house," Harish said smiling.

"Your house?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, yes. Things work differently in Slytherin. Even though we have head boys and prefects, I'm still in charge."

Oh, yes. He was in charge. Normally the older Slytherins would have confronted Hermione about where she was sorted, seeing as she was a Muggle-born, but they all remembered too well what happened the _last_ time they confronted a first year they thought to be Muggle-born. After their slip-up and Harish had gained control, he had enforced the fact that no one mentioned the word 'Mudblood' in front of him; it would be a while before they would forget it.

"Why?" Hermione asked, not knowing all of this.

"Because, I'm the heir of Slytherin."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Now, listen closely," Harish said, leaning forward, his voice lowered so that he wouldn't disrupt the sorting. "Slytherins are rather obsessed with blo bloodlines, so you could be in danger, being a Muggle-born witch and all."

"How did you know I—"

"Like I said, Slytherins are a bit obsessed with bloodlines."

"You're telling me," she muttered. Harish raised an eyebrow at her. "Sorry."

"Now, if you want to survive, don't mention life with Muggles and stick to me. No one will mess with you if you are around me."

"Okay?"

"Trust me, if you don't you'll wish you had never come to Hogwarts."

"Fine. You're the only person I know here anyway."

"Good!" Harish smiled and raised his voice slightly.

Hermione looked out at the sorting. There were a lot less students now. Professor McGonagall had just called Draco up to the stool. The hat had barely touched his head when it shouted, "SLYTHERIN!" and he was beckoned over by Harish to sit next to Hermione.

At first she thought that he was going to receive the same lecture she had from the teen, but it turned out that the two simply knew each other. She sighed and wondered what exactly had she gotten herself into.

 _UH-OH—WE'RE-IN-TROUBLE!_

"Bet you a galleon Ron'll be sorted into Gryffindor." Fred whispered.

"That's not a fair bet! Of course he'll be sorted into Gryffindor as he's got the least amount of brains out of the whole family."

Harish chuckled at his two friends and watched as the boy was called forward. The red-head cretin sat on the stool shaking slightly. After a second the hat cried out, "GRYFFINDOR!"

"See?" both twins said to each other at once.

Some students around them discreetly rolled their eyes, but most laughed at them as well. Even though Harish had a good hold on most of the house, he couldn't make them all like the Weasley twins. Though some did acknowledge that _maybe_ they had shed their blood traitor status and deserved attention. But to keep from causing too much disturbance from either side, no one really talked with them except Harish. The twins didn't mind though, it was just how they liked it.

Several of the older students craned their necks to get a look at Hermione before putting their heads together to discuss her sorting. "How did a Mudblood get in?" one boy asked.

Everyone that was a part of the conversation looked nervous. "Maybe…" one girl started, but wondered how to voice her theory. "Maybe she's not a Mudblood at all."

"Yeah," another boy whispered. "I mean, did you see the way she carried herself. It was certainly not the poise of a Mudblood."

"Besides," the girl added. "Remember the last person we thought was a Mudblood?"

Everyone nodded. "Blake," they all said together.

"Exactly, and he isn't a Muggle-born at all…He's…the Dark Lord's son."

"Plus aren't most children we think are Muggle-borns actually the last descendant of an ancient bloodline that went into hiding?"

"It is very possible. We know of several families that disappeared after the war."

"But then whose could she be?"

"Not a Lestrange…they're all in prison."

"What about a Black?"

"Don't be stupid! The last Black is in prison also."

"But, think about it. He was arrested for the killings of thirteen Muggles, right?" the others nodded. "The day after the Potters were killed."

Another student caught on. "And that was almost a year after this lot of first years would've been born!"

"Exactly!"

"What do you think," the girl asked one of the boys. "You've been rather silent."

He sighed. "I…I don't know, guys. That seems pretty farfetched to me."

"Think about it! He needed an heir, right? To not let the Black line die out. But, he was busy double-crossing everyone. He fooled everyone that he was on the Light side. Lord Black knew he was going to come true eventually, so he placed his daughter in a Muggle home to protect her. Her didn't want the Light side getting a hold of her when he would surely be arrested! Then, a year later, he came clean and was thrown into Azkaban! Plus, how else could Harish have let her break the seating arrangements and come sit with _him_ of all people?"

Everyone at their end of the table, even the first years, had been listening to this theory by the end of the girl's speech. They all sat there silent, contemplating the possibility that she was the last Black. Then, the first year girls whispered hurriedly to each other.

"—And I called her a Mudblood!" Pansy wailed. Tracy Davis patted her consolingly, but Daphne rolled her eyes.

Several people started arguing about the plausibility of this theory, but finally Daphne said, "Oi!" they all fell silent and looked at her. "You know one person that would know for sure? The Dark Lord's son."

 _OOOH—DUN-DUN-DUN!_

When all of the desserts finally disappeared off of everyone's plates, Professor Dumbledore stood up to give the usual start-of-term announcements. It was all regular, no students allowed in the Forbidden Forest…No casting spells in the corridors…Quidditch trials being held next week…But the last announcement the old man gave had the three mischief makers jittering in their seats.

"And finally I must tell you that the third floor corridor on the right hand side is forbidden to all students who do not wish to die a slow and painful death. Now off you trot!"

The three of them left immediately and on the way to the dungeons, Harish whispered to the twins, "This must have something to do with whatever was taken here by Hagrid." The other two nodded. Harish was silent for a moment. "I hope Granger doesn't get killed in her sleep tonight. It's practically my fault she's in Slytherin."

"Why are you even bothering with her?" the twins asked as the three of them entered the common room together.

"I dunno…" Harish replied uncertainly. "I can just feel magic coming off of her. That's not something you see in everyday eleven-year-olds. Plus she's got enough ambition to stretch from here to Durmstrang. I figured we could use her."

Just then a prefect entered the common room with the first years trailing behind her. She told them where the dormitories were before waving at Harish and going into her own dormitory. Draco went with a couple of other boys to inspect their dormitory and so did a couple of other girls. The rest of them stood huddled in a group nervously in the middle of the room.

Finally one girl, Daphne Greengrass to be specific, stepped forward and walked up to him, smiling. "We have a quick question for you," she said.

"And what is that?" Harish asked, wondering what this was about.

"We were wondering if the Lord Black happened to have children before he was arrested. We thought you might with your dad… and he was a big follower…"

Harish smiled. Oh, this was perfect. Hermione would certainly be left alone if the whole house believed this theory. And they would certainly believe it if he approved it.

"Caught on, have you?" he asked imperiously.

The little girls gasped. "So Hermione _is_ a Black?" and they bustled off to spread the news. Harish's grin grew into a smirk and he motioned for the twins to follow him.

They walked down to their dormitory and Harish, wanting to talk to the twins without someone eavesdropping on their conversation, said, "Clear out." Instantly the boys in their dormitory were scrambling to exit the room.

"It seems," he said once everyone was gone. "That the house thinks that Hermione is the last descendant of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black."

* * *

 **Now for my questions:**

 **How do you think Hermione will survive being a part of Harish's group? Do you think she will discover the rumors about her, and if she does how do you think she will react? If you think you know or you want to know...R &R!**

 ***TTFN***


	23. Part 3: Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Three: House Rules**

Hermione soon discovered that Hogwarts was a very odd place. Aside from the hierarchy and huge gap between "Purebloods" and "Mudbloods" that Hermione learned of the very first day, there were many other things that were somewhat odd. First off, she soon discovered that these things were most certainly not an issue in the other three houses. Also there were so many different passageways and corridors that it was easy to become lost. There were trick stairs that disappeared if you stepped on them, tapestries that hid whole other corridors, and on top of all of that was Peeves, the school poltergeist. The only thing Peeves obeyed was the Slytherin ghost, the Bloody Baron. Then there were the classes. Though Hermione had memorized all of her textbooks by heart, the lessons themselves were odd.

But even with getting lost on several occasions and receiving homework in all classes, she could not be distracted from the odd behaviour of nearly every student in her house. Thankfully the rumour of her being Sirius Black's daughter hadn't spread throughout the entire school…yet. Though she didn't actually know rumours were going around about her being Sirius Black's daughter, everyone pestered her because of it. Everywhere she went, Slytherins would try to get a good look at her. Pansy Parkinson and her gaggle of friends always whispered whenever she was around. Some older students would just randomly walk up to her, stare at her face for a few seconds, and then call to a friend, "Yeah, I see what you're saying. She _does_ look like Bellatrix Lestrange.

The only people that didn't seem to care were Harish, Fred, George, Draco, and Daphne. At meals Hermione found herself now a part of Harish's small group of friends. Other people noticed as well, saying that he was starting to gain an inner circle like the last dark lord had. Hermione didn't mind hanging out with them all that much. The twins were funny and Daphne was the only girl in the year that would talk to her. When she had asked why, the plain girl had simply said that her family was neutral; she didn't care about the Wizarding World's problems. Harish, though distant and always acting like he was a prince, wasn't all that bad either. He had taken her in and was being really nice to her. The only person in the group that wouldn't really talk to her was Draco, but Hermione didn't care enough to ask why.

For Draco his life turned odd as well. Not only Pansy fawned over him, but it was nearly every single girl in the school. The only girls not affected were Hermione and Daphne. It was really quite bothersome, and he couldn't figure why they all acted like that. Before Hogwarts, the only girl that acted odd around him was Pansy, but he had thought that it was just her.

On Friday of the first week, Hermione went to sit in her seat at breakfast that she had finally grown used to. Several people craned their necks to look at her and she hardly failed to notice. Unknown to her, Harish slipped a potion into her goblet while she looked at the students who were being quite obvious about staring at her. The twins, however, did notice and Harish held a finger up to his lips.

Hermione turned back to her plate and shook her head. "This is just so odd," she muttered.

"Welcome to my life," Harish replied, smiling.

"So what do we have today?" Daphne asked, sitting in a vacant seat beside Hermione.

"Double potions with the Gryffindors."

"Ugh," all six Slytherins said together.

"Be sure to give Ron—"

"A nice kick for us," the twins said before winking at Hermione.

She laughed. "I may end up doing that just because he's so rude."

Then Fred turned to Draco. "Now Draco, you are allowed to pick on Ron."

"Just so long as you don't mention anything about our parents or their money," George added.

Draco nodded. "Alright. He is stupid enough that I should not have to bring in insults about your parents."

"So what do you think Professor Snape is going to be like?" Daphne asked Hermione. "I've heard that he's rather strict."

"But not with Slytherins," Draco said. "Plus I'm his godson so there would be no need to pick on you."

"Good morning, Daphne," Harish said to her.

"Hello," Daphne said, hardly looking at him before talking more with Hermione and Draco about their classes so far.

Harish scowled. The twins smirked at each other before teasing Harish, "Aw, is wittle Hawish not used to being ignored?"

Harish folded his arms across his chest and his scowl deepened.

George mocked gasped, and Fred lowered his voice and said where Daphne couldn't hear, "Or does someone have a crush?"

"No—just—no!" He hopped up and said, "I need to go grab my book for Divination!" before hurrying out of the room. The twins' smirks grew even wider.

 _AHA—WE-ALL-SAW-IT-COMING!_

Ron and Neville sat down together at the Gryffindor table. Ron began shoving food into his mouth as quick as possible. From overhead, a rustling could be heard as hundreds of owls flooding into the Great Hall, delivering mail to the many students there. Neville's own owl dropped multiple things on his lap. One was a package of things he forgot that were shipped there by his grandmother and the other was a letter. Curious, he opened it and read it quickly.

"What does it say?" Ron asked, his mouth full of food.

"The giant, Hagrid wants to know if I want to have tea with him this afternoon."

"Why?" Ron asked.

"I dunno, it says that he knows my parents."

Ron suddenly became interested. Neville never mentioned his parents.

"Well, how about we visit him after Potions?" he suggested.

Neville nodded and jotted down his reply on the back of the parchment.

 _HAGRID—YOU-MEAN-THE- SCARY-GIANT-THAT-GUARDS-THE-FOREST?_

After Harish left, the twins looked at each other before going out of the room as well. When they caught up to Harish, Fred asked quietly, "Really though, what did you slip into Hermione's goblet?"

"Just a little potion to block ancestral spells."

"Is it permanent?" they both asked.

"No. The effects wear off if she is blood-adopted by a witch or wizard."

They nodded.

They walked all the way back to the common room and Harish grabbed his book. As they were heading to Divination, Harish muttered quietly to the other two. "You know what I think?"

"What?" the twins whispered in unison.

"I think that after our lessons we should check out the third floor corridor."

The twins cracked two identical grins. "Motion carried."

They started the ten minute walk to North Tower, where Divination was to be held. After five minutes and their seventh staircase, they stopped for breath.

"Here," Harish said between gusts of breath and pulling out the Marauder's Map. "I think there's a shortcut somewhere around here."

Harish was about to lead them to the left when a voice sounded from behind the three of them.

"Aha!"

Harish turned around to see a painting of a short knight standing in front of a fat, grey pony. They watched, half amused as he attempted to point his rage sword at them, but ended up dropping it on his foot.

"What villains are these that trespass upon my private lands! Come to scorn at my fall, perchance? Draw you knaves, you dogs!"

Harish looked at his knees and sure enough, there were grass stains on them, indicating that he had just fallen off of his pony.

The third year boy rolled his eyes and led his two friends to the shortcut. When they had rounded the corner, a clanking could be heard behind them.

"Come back here, you scurvy braggart! You rogue! I was speaking with you!" The knight appeared in a painting in front of them. "Halt in the name of Sir Cadogan!"

"I wonder," Harish said, drawing to a halt in front of the insane knight. There was an odd gleam in his eyes. "Is it possible to hex a painting? Maybe I should use fiendfyre." He turned to the twins and asked them seriously, "Do you think that would be a bit much?"

"I apologize my noble gentleman." Harish looked back at the painting, satisfied to see that the knight was now rather pale. "If ever you are in need of assistance, call on Sir Cadogan." And he ran off as quick as possible to his pony.

They turned a couple more times before arriving at a tightly spiralling staircase. Huffing and puffing the three boys ran up and up until finally they emerged onto a tiny platform where the rest of the class was gathered. There were no doors off this landing; instead there was a trapdoor on the ceiling. On it was a golden plaque that read "Sybil Trelawney, Divination teacher."

"How are we supposed to get up there?" one of the other students asked.

Just then, the trapdoor opened and a silvery ladder descended right at the boy's feet. Everyone got quiet. Since the class was made up of all Slytherins, they parted and let Harish ascend. The twins went up right after him.

They emerged into the strangest classroom in all of Hogwarts. In fact, it didn't look like a classroom at all but more like a cross between an old attic and Madam Puddifoot's tea shop down in Hogsmeade. At least twenty round tables were crammed into the room, each one surrounded by a number of poufs and chintz armchairs. Everything was lit with a dim crimson light; the curtains were a dark red and scarlet scarves draped over all of the lamps. It was stiflingly hot, and the fire that was burning in the fireplace was giving off a sickly sweet perfume that was so strong, Harish could feel a throbbing pressure behind his eyes. There were shelves lining the circular walls full of an assortment of quills, large glass balls, packs of playing cards, old candle stubs and a wide array of different teacups.

"Where's Professor Trelawney?" Harish whispered. The room had a whole feel to it that was similar to a library.

A voice suddenly came out of the shadows, a soft misty sort of voice.

"Welcome," it said. "How nice it is to see you all in the physical world at last."

Professor Trelawney was just as odd as her classroom was. She was very thin and her eyes were magnified to ten times their regular size by a pair of large, round glasses. She was draped in many shawls. Innumerable beads hung from her thin neck and bangles and rings adorned her hands.

"Welcome to Divination," the professor said in hardly a whisper. "My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me much because I find that leaving my tower and joining the regular hustle and bustle of the rest of the castle clouds my Inner Eye."

No one said a word to this peculiar announcement. Trelawney seated herself in a winged armchair and indicated for the class to do the same. She delicately arranged her shawl and continued, "So you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you. Books can take you only so far in this field…"

The twins both looked at Harish and he returned their looks with a sheepish grin. "I'm not that bad," he whispered.

"It is a gift granted to very few. You, boy," she said suddenly to Marcus Belby. "Is your mother well?"

"Yeah…" he grunted, sounding somewhat confused.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that if I were you, dear," she replied, the firelight glinting on her long emerald earrings. Marcus' confused expression deepened. "We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear," she said to Hortensia Nott. "Beware red haired men." Hortensia looked at the twins and let out a snort. How could a pair of bloodtraitors do her harm?

"In the second term," Professor Trelawney went on, "we shall progress to the crystal ball—if we have finished fire omens, that is. Unfortunately classes will be disrupted in March by a nasty bout of flu. I myself will lose my voice. I wonder, dear, if you could pass me that teapot?"

Terrance Higgs stood up, took an enormous teapot from the shelf, and put it on the table in front of the batty Professor. Harish noticed that the boy stayed as far back as possible; as though he thought that her oddness would infect him as well.

"Now I want you all to divide into pairs. Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for the last of the tea to drain out, then give your cup to your partner for them to decipher. You will use pages five and six of Unfogging the Future to interpret the tea leaves."

When the trio had gotten their teacups filed with tea they sat down around a table and tried to drink the scalding tea as quickly as possible without burning themselves. Harish cast a cooling charm on his before he put it up to his lips. They swilled the dregs as they were told and then drained the cups and swapped their cups over. Harish got George's cup, George got Fred's, and Fred got Harish's. They decided to do it this way as Harish didn't want to associate with the rest of the boys in their year and the twins didn't want to be split up.

After they opened their books to pages five and six, Harish asked Fred, "Alright, what can you see in mine?"

"A load of brown soggy stuff," the boy replied yawning.

Harish shook his head wondering if the whole year was going to be a joke.

 _OF-COURSE-IT-WILL—WE'RE-TALKING-ABOUT-TRELWANEY_

It was lucky Neville had tea with Hagrid to look forward to as the Potions class was downright terrifying. He and Ron had made their way down to the dungeons right after they finished breakfast. Snape had started class by taking roll. He sneered at Neville when he had raised a shaky hand when his name was called.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke in hardly above a whisper, but the entire room was silent. "As there is little foolish wand waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Silence followed his little speech. Ron shot Neville a look. One of the Slytherin girls, who was sitting next to Malfoy and surrounded by other girls, was sitting on the edge of seat as thought desperately wishing to prove that she wasn't a dunderhead.

"Longbottom," Snape said suddenly. Neville jumped. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Neville's eyebrows came together as he tried to remember. He thought that Asphodel and wormwood may have been some plants that he read about, but he couldn't remember what happened if you put them together.

"I don't know, sir," he finally replied.

"Pity," Snape said, his lips curling into a sneer. The Slytherin girl from earlier raised her hand. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Please sir, they make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death," she said, sounding oddly like she had swallowed the text book.

"That is correct. Ten points to Slytherin." Snape flicked his wand and the definition appeared on the chalk board behind him. "Tell me, Longbottom, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Now this one Neville had no idea at all. "I don't know sir," he whispered. His face was beginning to grow hot.

Granger's hand shot into the air once again. "Miss Granger?"

"Used to save people from most poisons, the bezoar is taken from the stomach of a goat."

"Take another ten points." He flicked his wand and that definition appeared with the first one. "What is the difference, Longbottom, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Neville knew this one. It was in a Herbology book he was currently reading. "Nothing, sir. They are the same plant also known as aconite."

Snape looked rather sour and the last one appeared on the board. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for not being able to answer the first two."

"But that's not fair!" Ron exclaimed. "You didn't even award Neville for the one he _did_ get right!"

"And another ten for your cheek, Mr. Weasley," he looked around at everybody. "Well, why aren't you all writing this down?"

There was a rummaging for quills and parchment and everyone wrote them down. Things didn't improve after that either. Snape put them all into pairs and had them working on a simple potion to cure boils. There was an uneven number of Slytherins so Granger was paired with Ron and Neville was put with Seamus. Then he swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush long snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except some Malfoy, who he seemed to like. The professor was just showing the class how perfect Malfoy had stewed his horn slugs when Neville was suddenly engulfed in a huge cloud of green smoke and the cauldron let out a hiss as it began to melt. Everyone began to watch as the cauldron turned into a twisted blob and the potion that was inside began to seep all over the floor. Hermione, who had been commanding Ron imperiously to chop roots, hopped up on her chair and continued stirring their potion. The others also climbed on chairs and table to prevent holes being burned into their socks.

Neville was drenched in the potion and felt painful boils sprout on his face and his arms and legs. "Idiot boy!" Snape snarled, casting a spell causing all of the potion to disappear. "Didn't I say to add the porcupine quills _after_ taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils sprouted on his nose.

"Take him up to the Hospital Wing," Snape spat at Seamus and the two of them left the class. Neville was fixed up pretty quick by the nurse, Madam Pomfrey.

 _I-AM—A-LINEBREAK_

Harish and the twins left for the third floor after classes ended. When they got out of the North Tower and back into the main building, Harish pulled out the cloak and draped it around the three of them. They were now getting the height where it would soon be hard to fit all three of the underneath it. As they walked to the third floor, the cloak pulled up around their feet when they walked. They could only hope that no one saw three pairs of feet wandering the corridors of their own accord.

When they got to the third floor, they passed the fourth corridor on the right. Then they passed the third and the second, finally coming to a stop at the first corridor. Harish looked at the door for a second before attempting to pull it open. It was locked.

"Alohamora," he whispered and the lock slid open.

Then he pulled the latch on the door up as quietly as possible and he pulled the door open a crack. He had no idea what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't what he saw as he opened the door enough to look into the corridor.

There was a dog. It was so large that it towered all the way from the floor to the high ceiling. It had four set of enormous claws and three enormous heads. It had six sets of mad, rolling eyes and three sets of snarling white teeth.

The monster's growls shook the floor as Harish stood staring at it. After he recovered from the shock, he quickly scanned the rest of the corridor. His eyes fell at the dog's feet where one of the paws was situated on top of a trapdoor. The dog bounded forward, snapping and Harish slammed the door shut and in their haste to get as far away as possible, Harish forgot to lock the door back. He tore the cloak off of the three of them and they ran all the way down to a courtyard.

When they sat down beneath a tree, Harish asked, "Please tell me you all saw what I saw."

"A three-headed dog standing on a trap door?" Fred asked.

Harish and George nodded faintly. "That must be," Harish said, still breathing heavily. "Where the object was taken. The one that Hagrid brought here."

"Do you think we should—"

"Ask him about it?"

"Are you kidding?" Harish asked incredulously. "We always get into enough trouble just from trying to get into the forest. What do you think he'd do I we told him we've been spying on him and snooping around the castle where we shouldn't be?"

"Yeah."

"I guess you're right."

They saw Draco coming out to join them. His blonde hair, shining in the sun, was rather hard to miss.

"What are you all doing?" he asked, sitting down in front of Harish.

"There's something we need to tell you," Harish told the boy. And they began telling him about their adventure on the third floor. About halfway through, Harish cut off as Hermione walked towards them.

"Go away, Mudblood," Draco snapped. He was rather annoyed that he didn't get to hear what was in the forbidden corridor. "Can't you tell that we are busy?"

Hermione halted. She observed him before gazing at the three older boys. She had noticed that they had stopped talking as she walked up.

"Fine!" she huffed. "I would rather talk with Daphne than some boy who obviously thinks he is better than me!"

Some people that were nearby that heard this announcement shook their heads. "We always knew that the Blacks and the Malfoys were on the same status level. The poor girl obviously feels annoyed that the Malfoys have risen above that because they managed to stay out of prison."

Meanwhile Hermione stormed off to the dungeons. Draco turned back to Harish and prompted him, "You were saying…"

But Harish observed him coldly. Any friendliness that was usually in his demeanour when he dealt with the younger boy was gone.

"Come," he said before grabbing the younger boy by the ear and steering him out of the courtyard. The twins stood on either side of Harish and Fred grabbed Draco's arm. Any Slytherin that had been in the courtyard as well followed curiously.

Harish took Draco all the way to the common room and finally took notice of the people following him. "I have an announcement to make." Hermione, who was now sitting on a couch next to Daphne, looked up at him. "Slytherin is a house of nobility," he said finally. Staring into Draco's face as he spoke. The younger boy began to feel slightly unnerved and embarrassed. He knew that this speech was somehow caused by him. "We work together to meet our goals. Within in the Slytherin common room we can have our quarrels, but out there we must get along. We need to at least _appear_ united to the other houses. I do not want any of you picking on any member of the house especially when you are around other students. If you do, I shall find out and I shall punish you accordingly."

Draco hung his head knowing exactly what he did wrong know. Harish continued, "If you are insulting or provoking people from other houses, you must use cunning that we pride ourselves in possessing. Do not openly provoke where there is a possibility of getting in trouble. That is all. Now clear out." Everyone made their way to get up, but Harish pushed Hermione back onto the couch when she stood up. "Not you. I need to speak with you."

He looked at Draco. "I have decided to let the _Mudblood_ know of certain things that have been going on inside the castle."

So he started over, telling Hermione about what they heard Hagrid say at Diagon Alley. Then he moved on to tell both of the first years what they had seen in the corridor. When they were finished Hermione frowned slightly, thinking all of this over. Draco looked confused. "What could they possibly be hiding within the school?"

The trio shrugged in unison. "That's what we would like to find out," Harish replied.

 _DON'T-IGNORE-THIS-TOP-SECET—_ PUMPKIN-JUICE— _DRACO!_

After Potions ended, Ron met up with Neville and the two of them went down to Hagrid's.

He lived in a small wooden house at the edge of the woods. Leaning beside the front door were a pair of galoshes and a crossbow. When Neville knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside the cabin and several booming barks, The Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, " _back_ , Fang— _back_."

The giant's big hairy face appeared at the door as he pulled it open.

"Hang on," he said. " _Back,_ Fang."

"He let them in, struggling to keep hold of the collar of an enormous black boarhound. There was only one rooms inside and fowls hung from the ceiling. A copper kettle was boiling on the open fire and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerselves at home," Hagrid said, letting go of Fang's collar. The dog bounded to Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was not a fierce as he looked.

"'Ello, Neville," Hagrid said. He poured three huge mugs of tea and put rock cakes onto a plate. "I 'aven'nt seen ye since ye were a baby, but ye look like yer dad." Neville grinned at being compared to his dad. That wasn't something that occurred often.

"Um," Neville started nervously. "This is Ron."

"Another Weasley, eh?" Hagrid grunted, glancing at Ron's freckles. "I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

Ron scowled at the mention of the twins. Hagrid seemed to notice this and the twinkle in his black eyes receded somewhat. The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but Neville and Ron pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid about their lessons so far. Fang rested his head on Neville's knee and drooled all over his robes.

Hagrid started asking Ron about his brother, Charlie, who was now doing work with dragons in Romania. Ron was telling the giant all about the dragons his brother told him about when Neville picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cosy. It was a cutting from the _Daily Prophet_.

 _ **Gringotts Break-In Latest**_

 _Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown._

 _Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searches had in fact been emptied the same day._

" _But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon._

Neville and Ron, who had been reading the paper over his shoulder, both looked up at Hagrid.

"We were there that day."

"We saw you as well."

"It could've been stolen while we were all there."

* * *

 **Note: The lesson in their first Divination class is almost identical to the original. I did this on purpose, wanting to express that Trelawney is a fraud and puts on the same performance each year.**

 **Now, how did you like it? Would you have believed that Hermione was a Black? Do you think Ron and Neville will get into trouble for their curiosity? If you do, R &R! If you don't...R&R anyway!**

 ***v*TTFN!**


	24. Part 3: Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

 **Enjoy the next update on Dark Heir! Can't wait to finish posting this story!**

* * *

 **Chapter Four: In Which Ickle-Firsties Catch Up**

The first two weeks back and Harish didn't even notice that they hadn't had time to pull pranks or search for the Chamber. With three extra classes along with Quidditch (the three of them made the team once again) there was little time for anything else. Though Defence Against the Dark Arts most everyone read the whole class because they couldn't make out the lesson through Professor Quirrell's stutters.

Professor Trelawney was a joke, most of his class reckoning that she was a fraud. They couldn't really learn much because of her. It was quite annoying really. Then there was Care of Magical Creatures, taught by the batty old Professor Kettleburn, who was missing a leg and several fingers. He was close to retiring, so he gave them things like flobberworms to care for. Then he assigned them lots of homework looking up things about flobberworms. The other elective, Ancient Runes was complicated and they always had more homework in that subject than any other.

Flint was training them harder than ever. He seemed to think that unless they _thought_ that they would _not_ win all of their games, they would lose them. Harish guessed that it was the concept that once a team starts winning all of their games, they slack off and lose because they think they are going to win no matter what. He kept stressing that they would only win and get better if they practiced.

The main source of entertainment they had was the fact that the entire house thought that Hermione was the last Black. Hermione chose to spend her time around the three (now four because of Draco) boys. Harish would have to fight off laughs when he was doing homework and Hermione was studying and some random first year girl came up to Hermione and asked what she thought in a topic. Or when Hermione would mention a vacation to Spain and all of the girls putting their heads together whispering, "She must have been placed into a family with Squibs. The only way they have that much money is if they are using the Black vaults."

One day Hermione and Draco had walked up to the trio grumbling about how they had to have flying lessons with the Gryffindors. The twins had laughed and made a comment about Ron. Before lessons they had wished them luck and then arranged to meet in the courtyard afterward.

Then Draco, Hermione, and Daphne had walked across the smooth lawn to where the class was being held. There were about twenty broomsticks laid out for use. They stood talking for a minute and slowly everyone else arrived. Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived not long after that. She had short grey hair and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Draco groaned when he saw his broomstick. It was old and had twigs sticking out of it. Glancing around, he saw that the rest of them were like it.

"Stick your right hand over your broom and say up," Madam Hooch instructed them.

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Draco's jumped into his hand and Hermione's rolled over. He snorted at her, but chose not to say anything out loud. Madam Hooch then walked around and showed them all how to properly mount the broom. He scowled and protested when she said that he had been doing it wrong all along, but then he decided that it was better to just learn how to mount it right for if he didn't then he may never get on the Quidditch team.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground hard," she told them. "Keep your broomstick steady, rise a few inches from the ground, lean forward slightly, and touch back down. On my whistle—three—two—"

But Neville who was nervous, jumpy, and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whiles had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up higher and higher. His face was very pale as he looked down before he slid sideways off his broom and fell with a nasty crack. His broomstick was still rising higher and had started to drift towards the forest.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"None of you are to move while I take this boy to the Hospital Wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be expelled before you can say 'Quidditch'. Come on, dear," and she led Neville inside.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Draco could contain his laughter no longer. "Did you see his face, the great lump?" the others joined in with his laughter.

"Shut up, Malfoy," one of the Gryffindor girls snapped.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" Pansy asked. "Never thought _you'd_ like fat little cry-babies, Parvati."

Ron, who was standing beside her was shaking with anger. "Look!" Draco said darting forward and snatching Neville's remembrall out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing his gran sent him.

"Give it here, Malfoy," Ron said, darting forward.

Draco smiled nastily. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find—how about—up a tree?"

"Give it _here_!" Ron yelled. Draco wasn't listening as he hopped on his broom and flew above a tree.

"Come and get it, Weasley!" Ron's face turned red, but he didn't grab his broom. He knew it wouldn't turn out well for him if he got caught flying. His mother, for one, would kill him.

Draco placed it on one of the branches and grinned broadly at his rival as he touched back down. "I knew you were too much of a coward."

Ron started forward angrily, his face now purple. The remembrall began to fall out of the branch and Hermione whipped out her wand and caused it to stop in mid-air. Pansy and her group of friends began whispering excitedly again, "Did you see that? She didn't even say anything!"

Hermione shook her head and grabbed it, shoving it into her pocket. "Come on, Draco," she said. "Class is over by now."

So they left to find the older boys.

 _YEARS-AND-YEARS-AGO:_

A man walked up to his employer. "You told me to find out all I can about You-Know-Who?" he asked. His employer, face half hidden in the shadows nodded. "I think I have found something you might be interested in."

"And what is this information you have for me?"

"His son, Harish Blake. Somehow he has control of the Potter vaults."

"Is this so?"

"Yes. I am certain of it."

The wizard's manager narrowed their eyes. "I think that this young Harish may be our key of getting to him."

 _NO-PUN-INTENDED_

By dinner time Ron was fuming. He watched as the twins and Blake entered the hall, sitting in the centre of the table. Not long after that Malfoy and Granger came in and sat across from them. Ron ate his food slowly, his face hot with anger. Finally he got up and went over to the Slytherin table. Dean and Seamus followed to see what was going to happen.

"You think you're so great, Malfoy," he said angrily.

The twins frowned at him, Granger looked confused, but Draco and Harish smirked identically.

"Why don't you find out?" Malfoy replied. "Duel tonight in the trophy room at midnight. Unless you are too much of a coward to show. With your brains I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't know what a Wizard's Duel was."

"Of course I do," Ron snarled. "Seamus'll be my back-up. Who's yours?"

"Harish," Malfoy replied. "See you tonight then."

And as Ron stalked away, Draco and Harish snickered. Hermione looked even more confused if possible and so did the twins.

"We planned this all out," Harish explained quietly. "General rule. Never let your enemies chose the time and place for a battle."

That night Ron and Seamus left the common room at half past eleven. Right after they exited the portrait hole and were walking a little ways down the corridor, they heard a small snuffling and turned around to see that the Fat Lady was gone from her portrait. There was no turning back now. Ron looked down to see a shivering lump underneath the portrait's frame.

"Neville!" he exclaimed, rushing forward to help his friend up. "What are you doing out here? Why weren't you in the common room earlier?"

"Thank goodness you found me!" the boy said gratefully. "I couldn't remember the password to get in to bed. I've been out here for hours!"

"Keep your voice down, guys," Seamus whispered. "The password's Pig Snout, though it won't help you now as the Fat Lady's gone."

They started off back towards the trophy room, but Neville darted after them. "Don't leave me here! The Bloody Baron's already been past twice!"

"Well, come with us then," Ron whispered. "But we've got to keep quiet, okay?"

Neville nodded and the three of them set off together. They flitted along corridors striped with moonlight from the high windows. At every turn and every creak Ron jumped, thinking that Filch had caught them, but they were lucky. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tip toed to the trophy room.

Malfoy and Harish weren't there yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, and plates glimmered gold and silver. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doorways. Ron wouldn't put it past Malfoy to ambush them or sneak up on them. The minutes crept by.

"He's late," Ron whispered to Seamus, "Maybe he's chickened out."

A noise in the next room made them jump. Ron raised his wand as a voice spoke and his heart nearly stopped when he realized it wasn't Malfoy.

"Sniff around, my sweet. They might be lurking in a corner."

It was Filch talking to his cat, Mrs. Norris. Panicking, Ron motioned wildly for the other two to follow him quietly. The three first years scurried towards the door as quickly as possible. Neville's robes had just whipped around the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room.

"They're in here somewhere…probably hiding."

"Come on!" Ron mouthed to the others and they began to creep down a gallery full of shining suits of armour. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Neville let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run, knocking over Seamus and a suit of armour in the process with a loud CLANG!

"RUN!" Ron shouted, pulling Seamus to his feet and bolting down the corridor. They swung around the doorpost, not looking back, and ran down one corridor after another without any idea where they were going. They ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it, and came out near their Charms classroom.

"I think we've lost him," Seamus panted finally.

Ron leaned up against the wall to catch his breath and Neville was bent double, wheezing. "We've got to get back to Gryffindor Tower as soon as possible," Ron said.

"Malfoy must have tricked us," Seamus said, turning to Ron.

"Let's go," he replied, not wanting to admit that Malfoy had outsmarted them.

They hadn't gone more than three paces when a doorknob rattled next to them and something came shooting out of the classroom. It was Peeves. When he saw them, he let out a squeal of delight.

"Shut up Peeves—please—you'll get us caught."

Peeves cackled. "Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not it you don't give us away, Peeves, please."

"Should tell Filch, I should." Peeves said.

"Get out of the way," Ron said, shoving past him.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves shouted as loud of possible. All three of the boys cringed. "STUDENTS DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door. Thinking quick, they threw it open and shut it behind them.

Seamus, Ron, and Neville piled on the door and pressed their ears to the rough wood. "Which way did they go, Peeves?" they heard Filch ask. "Tell me, quick."

"Say please."

"Don't mess with me right now Peeves. Which way did they go?"

"I shan't say nothing if you don't say please," Peeves said in a sing-song voice.

There was a pause. "All right," Filch gritted out. "Please."

" _Nothing!_ " and he zoomed away cackling.

Ron opened the door a crack. "He's gone," he whispered. "I think we'll be alright."

Neville, who had been tugging on Seamus' robes for the past minute, gave his cloak an extra hard tug.

"Neville, get off!" he exclaimed. " _What?_ " he turned around to see a giant head of a dog staring straight at him. And there was another head staring at Ron…and another staring at Neville. It was a dog with three heads! The dog took a step forward and his eyes fell to its feet where it was standing on a trapdoor. The three of them shouted in fright and ran all the way back to their dormitory where Seamus told the other two what he saw. The dog was guarding something…but what would it be guarding?

* * *

 **Will Draco ever learn to be nice to people? Would Harish catch on easily if something odd was going on inside the castle? *wink, wink, nudge, nudge* Does anyone agree that Fluffy should have just eaten Ron? If so, R &R! You could even ask some questions of your own! (though I'm not guaranteeing I will answer them the way you want me to ;)**

 **~TaTaForNow**


	25. Part 3: Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Chapter Five: Lessons in Acting**

While Ron, Neville, and Seamus discussed why the school would have dog locked up inside it, Harish, Fred, and George wondered what the trapdoor could hold.

Both groups assumed the same thing: "Whatever's down there, it must either be valuable or really dangerous," Ron had said to Neville.

"Or both," Hermione had replied when Draco said the same thing.

The trio had put Draco and Hermione to work researching so that the twins wouldn't have to. Harish simply shook his head every time they grinned and asked the two first years if they had fun in the library. Hermione certainly did, at least. She would tell them what she had found in a book that day. Draco, who still couldn't stand to be around her, always looked at books on the other end of the library.

Hermione was slowly loosening up around the twins, almost like Harish did in their first year. When she learned that they had purposely sent Ron to get in trouble, she had freaked out, but after they explained that Slytherin wouldn't lose points, she didn't mind so much. It was Harish's personal goal to turn Hermione into a real Slytherin one day. A Slytherin that acted like she was a pureblood and didn't mind breaking rules at all. But that may take a while.

Now that school had officially kicked off, work started letting up slightly and most likely wouldn't increase again until close to the holidays. On the other hand, the Slytherin Quidditch teams were meeting more and more often. This left the third years busy with that while the first years researched for the Chamber of Secrets (as Hermione was informed of it so that she could help). As it got closer to Halloween, the first years' lesson became more interesting as they got past the basics.

On Halloween morning they woke up to the smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. In Charms it was announced that they would start making objects fly. Professor Flitwick put everyone in pairs. Blaise Zabini was Hermione's partner and Draco's was Pansy Parkinson. Draco was forced to attempt to focus while Pansy was flirting with him the entire class. He couldn't stand the simpering girl.

"Now don't forget the wrist movement we've been practicing!" Flitwick squeaked. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the incantation is important as well—never forget Wizard Baruffio who was 's' instead 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

It was…slightly difficult, Draco had to admit. He and Pansy both swished and flicked but neither of them got any results. Beside them Blaise was having the same problem, but Hermione, who knew that she would have no trouble with the spell, tried to encourage Blaise. But it didn't seem to be working.

" _Wingardium Leviosa!_ " he shouted, waving his arms around.

"You're saying it wrong," Hermione finally snapped haughtily. "It's Wing- _gar_ -dium Levi- _o_ -sa. Make the 'gar' nice and long."

"You do it then, if you're so clever," he snarled at her.

Hermione rolled up her sleeves, flicked her wand, and said, " _Wingardium Leviosa_!"

And her feather rose higher and higher.

"Oh, well done!" Flitwick said clapping his hands. "Well done! See here everyone, Miss Granger's done it!"

Pansy leaned over to whisper to Tracey Davis and Draco rolled his eyes, not understanding what they were all whispering about. If he _had_ known he would've been laughing his head off about how ridiculous they all were. When class ended, Draco and Blaise exited the room together.

"She's a nightmare, really," he said. "The Mudblood thinks she's better than everyone else. _'It's wing-_ _ **gar**_ _-dium Levi-_ _ **o**_ _-sa!_ ' Honestly! No wonder she hasn't got any friends," Draco remained silent, knowing that if he said anything Harish would find out. He didn't even point out that Hermione _was_ somewhat friends with Harish and the twins, because he supposed that didn't really count. Just as he was about to rebuke the boy, Hermione rushed past them, her head bent over. Draco caught a glimpse of her face as she passed and was surprised to see it glistening with tears.

"I think she heard you," Draco said to Zabini. He shrugged.

When Hermione didn't turn up in time for the next class and then for the rest of the afternoon, he began to get worried. Finally after hearing about Pansy talking about how Hermione had been crying in the bathroom all day, Draco went to go find her right after he told Harish where he was going, as the feast was about to start.

Sure enough, the minute Draco entered the girl's bathroom, he could hearing Hermione's sobs.

"Hermione?" Draco called hesitantly. He began to think of what he should say to cheer her up, but he had honestly no idea. He was bad at this.

"What do you want?" Hermione snapped.

"Um…" Draco trailed off. Yup, he was definitely bad at this. "I wanted to make sure you were all right."

The bathroom stall opened and Hermione's pale, tear-streaked face peered out at him. "Why? You can't stand me anyway."

"Well, you know…you're not _all_ that bad. I mean…you were the only person that could make their feather fly." Hermione smiled looking cheered up at that. Draco continued on more confidently, "Blaise didn't really mean what he said, he was just annoyed that he couldn't cast the spell right. You just need to know how to read people right. That's how it works in Slytherin. Trust me, I've grown up with most of the people in our house. If you act like their insults don't bother you, then they won't insult you so much, see?"

Hermione nodded. "Thanks, Draco."

Suddenly the door swung open and Draco's nose scrunched up as it was assaulted by the most horrible smell. In the doorway stood a tall, grey creature with big ears and a small head wielding a club. Draco had no time to wonder how on earth a troll got into the school when it shoved its way into the room and swung the club right at his head.

 _STINKY-STINKY-STINKY!_

Harish and the twins sat down in their usual seat as the feast begun. Food appeared on the golden plates and they happily dug in. The whole table filled up quickly all except for the two seats across from the trio.

"Where are Draco and Hermione?" the twins asked.

"Apparently Zabini upset her. I'll have to deal with him later. Draco was trying to get Hermione to stop crying when the feast started."

The twins shook their heads, silent for a moment. Harish raised his roll up to his mouth to take a bite out of it, but soon it fell back to his plate as his eyes pivoted to the doors which had just slammed open. Professor Quirrell came running in, his turban askew.

"Troll! Troll in the dungeons!" he shouted, running up to the staff table. "Thought you ought to know." And he fainted…more or less.

Everyone started screaming and Harish had to shout to the twins for them to hear him. "That faint was obviously fake!" He wasn't sure if they heard him or not, but soon Dumbledore was sending up several scarlet firecrackers to quiet everyone down.

"Prefects," he rumbled finally. "lead your houses back to your common rooms immediately!"

Instantly the prefects got up and called for their fellow housemates to follow them. Harish looked back to see Quirrell still lying on the floor as the rest of the teachers filed out, no doubt going to go find the troll. Harish grabbed the twins and the three of them ducked behind a tapestry that hid a sizeable alcove where he began whispering to them very fast.

"Okay, so we know that something's hidden in Hogwarts. That faint was obviously fake and the dungeons is nowhere near the third floor. We also know that Draco and Hermione don't know about the troll and are both too valuable to lose. I want you two to go fetch them and head to back here. If I'm not here within ten minutes of you arriving here to wait on me, send Draco and Hermione to the common room and come to the forbidden corridor."

"What are you—"

"Going there for?"

"I think that the troll is just a diversion."

"But you can't go there alone!" the both whispered.

"Just go! I need to make sure that he's not after whatever's down there!"

"Why?"

"Go!" and he ripped through the tapestry and tore off for the third floor.

When he reached the spot where it was located, he turned a corner by the door and pressed himself flat against the wall, breathing heavily. Heart pumping wildly and his hands shaking, he pulled out the cloak and hid himself properly.

Soon he heard footsteps and even though he was invisible, he pressed himself flat up against the wall. He poked his head around the corner just in time to see…Professor Snape? Harish's eyes narrowed as he wondered what his Head of House was doing there. The dark man looked around before trying the door, his eyes widened as he discovered that it was already unlocked. Then he went inside and shut the door behind him. There was a scrabbling sound coming from behind the door and then low growls of the giant dog. Harish pressed his ear against the wall and heard Snape groan and walk back over to the door.

Snape walked back out of the door, limping this time. There was a long gash along one of his legs that was beginning to ooze blood. Harish watched for another moment as Snape shut the door and when the sallow man turned around, Professor Quirrell was walking up. _There_ he was!

He was walking up, no longer looking terrified and no longer pale. As Snape turned around, he looked scared again and stuttered, "Oh y-y-you were ch-checking the st-stone t-too?"

Snape's lips thinned. "Don't think that I don't know what you are up to," Snape said finally.

"W-what do y-y-you mean?"

"Let's just say that I'm watching you, Quirrell," and with a swish of the cloak he was walking back down the corridor. Quirrell stood there for another minute, staring at the door. His face was void of any fear once again. Roars could be heard in the distance, most likely coming from the troll. Harish pulled off the cloak when both of them had disappeared. Something odd was going on here.

 _TOO-TRUE—TOO-TRUE_

After Harish ran off, the twins went to the bathroom to get Draco and Hermione. The two boys skidded around the corner to see the troll walk slowly up to the bathroom door.

"That is a—"

"Major dilemma?"

"Yeah," they breathed.

They bent their heads together, whispering, as they formulated a plan. The troll entered the bathroom and so did the twins as they heard a high pitched scream.

"Please tell me that was Hermione," George said leaning up against the doorframe.

"And not you, Draco," Fred finished, smirking.

Draco's face turned pink. "Who cares who screamed? Get this troll away from me."

The twins grinned at the same moment. "Yes, your highness."

"Your majesty."

"Shut up," Draco shouted as he ducked another blow from the troll's club.

Fred raised his wand and cried, "Accio club!"

The club shot out of the troll's hand and Fred continued to make the club zoom around the room. The troll watched it, spinning in circles. While it was distracted, George took a string with orbs on either end of it. He tapped each orb with his wand, causing a glowing blue circle to appear in the middle of both of them. Then he spun his wand in a circle. Mimicking the movement, the orbs spun in a circle around the trolls legs, tripping him. Then he waved his wand in a spiral movement and the orbs moved all around the troll, wrapping him completely in the string.

"Engorgio," George said, finally dropping the club. The string enlarged where it was twice as thick. The troll struggled against the rope to no avail. It was very strong.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Fred said, levitating the club over the trolls head and then he let the club go. It slammed into the troll's skull.

"What is that?" Hermione asked as George flicked his wand toward him and the orbs flew into his hand.

"Enfolding String. Invented it ourselves. Reducio," he replied. The rope shrunk back to string size. Then he tapped the orbs again with his wand and the glowing circles disappeared.

"Come on," Fred said. "We need to get out of here before teachers arrive. That troll was making a whole lot of racket."

So he led them to the alcove where they had agreed to meet Harish. On the way they had to duck behind suits of armour as Professor McGonagall passed, then Snape, and then Quirrell following up the rear. After they passed, they ran off to the alcove.

"You didn't run into Snape or Quirrell did you?" Harish asked as they slid in there. It was a bit cramped now as there were two more people.

"Snape was there too?" Harish nodded.

"Either he went to head him off, or he's trying to steal it as well. Honestly, Professor Quirrell was acting a bit more suspicious though."

"Should we head back to the common room now?" Hermione asked. She was squished between Fred and George.

"No," Harish replied. "We need to wait until we are sure the professors aren't around."

The twins nodded and Fred pulled the map out of his pocket. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he whispered quietly.

The map spread out and Hermione, who had never seen it before, let out a gasp.

Harish peered at it over his friend's shoulder. "McGonagall, Quirrell, and Snape are still in the bathroom. Flitwick has returned to his office. Dumbledore is…not on here. Maybe he's in a hidden chamber?"

"Probably with whatever's on the third floor," George suggested.

"Yeah…It's all clear. Oh, and whatever's down there. It's a stone. Quirrell said something about 'checking on the stone' when he showed up."

The others nodded and they left for the common room. Before they entered, Harish made sure that the two first years knew not to mention this stone or the third floor. When they _did_ enter, people asked him where they had been.

He simply shrugged and went in his dormitory. He pulled the curtains around his bed and fell asleep after many thoughts surrounding Snape and Quirrell.

* * *

 **Here are my questions: How long will it take Harish to figure out the mystery? Who is Quirrel working for? Do you think the Enfolding String will be returning? The first person to R &R wins virtual cupcakes shaped like Dark Marks!**

 **~TTFN**


	26. Part 3: Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Six: Enter the Philosopher's Stone**

"So why do you say Quirrell—"

"was more suspicious than Snape?" the twins asked several days later when Harish restated his opinion. They were walking back from Quidditch practice and it was rather cold out.

Harish cast a warming charm on himself and he stopped shivering. He then proceeded to tell the twins about how Quirrell's facial expressions kept changing.

"He had no emotion at all?"

"Well," Harish considered this. "If he _did_ show any emotion it would've been…excitement, but it was hardly there."

The twins nodded and Harish continued, telling them of the conversation that had been exchanged between the two professors. The, he told them about how Quirrell stood there for another second after Snape had left, all fear gone once again.

"Yeah, that is—"

"Mighty suspicious."

Harish nodded. "Now the question is, what type of stone is it?"

 _WHAT-DOES-IT-ALL-MEAN—_ DOUBLE-RAINBOW— _DRACO-SERIOUSLY!?_

Ron, Neville, and Seamus were sitting on the steps to the courtyard. Ron and Seamus were looking at a dungbomb that had been sent in the mail to him, wondering who had sent it. Snape came limping out and the two had no warning before he came over to them.

"Dungbombs are no longer allowed, Weasley. Hand it over."

Fuming, Ron handed it over and watched as he limped away again.

"He's been in a foul mood ever since Halloween," Seamus said.

"What's happened to his leg?" Neville asked.

Seamus shrugged. Ron leaned forward and lowered his voice. "It was like that the day after Halloween. Do you—you don't think he let that troll in as a diversion do you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, whatever that dog's guarding, it must be valuable. Snape must've let the troll in as a diversion and went to the third floor to head it off! When he got a nasty bite on his leg, he decided he couldn't get past it!" Ron looked proud that he had managed to figure something like that out.

"He does seem evil enough," Neville replied hesitantly.

 _EVIL-EVIL-EVIL_

One the morning of the first match, the team all sat together once again, but Harish made sure that the two first years kept their usual seats. After a couple of minutes the Gryffindor team walked in and they started booing loudly. Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor captain, shot dirty looks at them all morning.

At ten to eleven, the team decided to make their way down to the changing rooms. As they stood up to leave, George said, "Hold on." He fished around in his pockets for a second before pulling out the Enfolding String and handing it to Hermione. "I don't trust any of them to leave this alone," and he hurried off to catch up with the rest of the team. Hermione stuffed the Enfolding String in her own pocket.

Draco, Hermione, and Daphne then went to reserve good seats. They sat in the middle of the top row in the Slytherin section. Over the course of the next ten minutes, the rest of the school gathered in the stadium. As it was the first game of the season, most of the teachers showed up as well.

The game kicked off and the stadium roared as instantly Slytherin took possession of the Quaffle. Hermione, who didn't really like sports all that much, was on the edge of her seat as the Quaffle passed from Slytherin, to Gryffindor, and back again. Draco had to shout the rules to her over the noise of the crowd. Slytherin scored again and again, while Gryffindor repeatedly failed to get past the twins bludgers and the Slytherin keeper. It was all a very fun experience until…

"What is Harish doing?" Draco asked suddenly. He pulled out a pair of binoculars to watch more closely.

Hermione looked up to see Harish rising about five feet per second. More people began to notice as his broom began trying to buck him off, Harish clinging to it for dear life. After a second or so, his broom started rolling around.

"It looks like he lost control of his broom," Hermione stated.

"But that's a brand new Nimbus 2000!" Draco protested. "The only way it could be bewitched was if someone used dark magic! No one on the team would've done it because it's jeopardizing the game!"

"Let me see those!" Hermione said suddenly, snatching the binoculars out of his hands. She looked over at the teacher section. "I knew it! Quirrell is jinxing his broom!"

"What?" Draco took the binoculars back and inspected the professor. Sure enough, he was staring avidly at Harish, his mouth moving rapidly.

Hermione looked back at Harish to see him dangling from his broom by one hand. "What do we do?" she asked. The she quickly began rummaging in her pockets, trying to grab her wand, but her hand closed on something else first. The brown haired girl brought the Enfolding String out of her pocket and in unison, she and Draco stared at it before looking up at each other.

Hermione then grabbed her wand out of her pocket and tapped each of the orbs. Then she tried to flick her wand over to Professor Quirrell, but she flicked it wrong and the string went hurtling out into the stadium. "Whoops!" she muttered before aiming her wand at Professor Quirrell, meaning to wrap him up like the twins did the troll. The orbs flew straight at his face, knocking him over.

"What're you doing?" Draco asked.

"It's a lot harder than it looks!" she exclaimed back at him.

The blonde boy glanced up at the boy he had grown up with. Harish was just managing to swing himself back onto his broom.

"Keep distracting him!" he shouted to her over the cheers of the Slytherins.

Hermione nodded and wiggled her wand around, causing the orbs to fly all around Quirrell's face. As the man recovered from his shock, Hermione saw him pull out his wand.

"Don't want these messed up," Hermione said as she flicked her wand towards herself and caught the orbs clumsily. "Or the twins'll have both our hides."

"Both?" Draco drawled. "I'm going to tell them it's _your_ fault, not mine."

"Thanks a lot," Hermione replied sarcastically.

They both looked up just in time to see Harish swoop into a dive and catch the snitch. Slytherin won, but the two first years hardly took notice. What was going on? First the troll, and now Harish attacked. Was someone trying to do him in? If so, why? How could someone possibly know that he was Voldemort's son?

When Harish was escorted off the field in a crowd of green, Hermione and Draco caught up to him. Quietly, Hermione said to him, "We know who jinxed your broom."

Harish looked at her quizzically. On the way down to the Slytherin common room, Harish, Hermione and Draco ducked into the passageway that led to the kitchens. Harish waited a second before catching sight of the twins and dragging them there as well.

"Now, who exactly jinxed my broom?" Harish asked.

"Professor Quirrell," they both replied at once.

Harish's brow knitted in confusion and his eyebrows drew together with scepticism. "You're sure?" he asked, his tone suggesting that he didn't believe them.

"Positive," Hermione replied briskly. "Look, I know a jinx when I see one. You have to maintain eye contact and Quirrell wasn't blinking."

"He wasn't," Draco confirmed. "he was sort of…muttering under his breath."

"Muttering? Like spell casting?" Fred asked. Hermione continued as if the twins had never interrupted Draco.

"And then when we knocked him over—"

"Knocked him over?" George asked, a grin splitting his face.

"Harish was able to get back on his broom."

"I like these two," both twins said to each other at the same time.

"Very observant," Harish agreed coolly.

"Are you even listening?"

"Yeah, it sounds like—"

"Some weirdo's trying to do Harish in."

"Well, that's what we figured, but why would they want to do that?"

"Hey," Harish replied. "I am just loveable."

"This isn't something to joke about!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Don't worry," he smirked and patted her on the shoulder. "We have got everything under control," he said to reassure her. She rolled her eyes.

After the match, Neville and Ron went with Hagrid to his cabin. As they were walking out of the stadium, Hagrid looked pensive. Finally after a few seconds, he broke the silence.

"I wonder wha' coulda made a broom act like that. On'y dark magic coulda bewitched it."

"Well, the Slytherins certainly didn't do it," Ron snorted. "He was on their team."

"Still…"

"Look," Ron said. "I bet he was just faking. He's a right foul git…Thinks he's better than anyone. He'd probably do anything to get attention."

They were silent as Hagrid let them into his cabin and poured three steaming mugs of tea.

"You know, Malfoy and Blake tricked us the other day," Ron said. Then he thought of how he could put what happened without letting an adult know that they were wandering the castle at night. "Made us run into a giant three headed dog."

Hagrid dropped the mug he was holding. "How do yeh know abou' Fluffy?"

"Fluffy?" Neville asked.

"That thing has a name?" Ron asked.

"Course he does, he's mine—bought em off a Greek chappie in the pub las' year—lent him to Dumbledore to guard the—" he cut off and looked as if he had just said something he wasn't supposed to.

"Yes?" Ron and Neville asked.

"Don' ask me anymore," Hagrid said gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to _steal_ it!" Ron shouted. "He let that troll in as a diversion! Haven't you seen his leg?"

"He was checkin' up on Fluffy. Listen, yer meddlin' in things that don't concern yeh. Things that don't need meddlin' _in!_ Yeh forget that dog an' forget what it's guardin'—that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicholas Flamel."

"So there's someone involved named Nicholas Flamel, is there?" Ron asked.

Hagrid looked furious with himself.

 _FLUFFY-LIKE-BALL—FLUFFY-WANT-BALL_

Hermione and Draco were waiting in a group of people to be let into Potions. Ron, Neville, and Seamus were standing apart from the others, whispering excitedly. Hermione caught sight of them and nudged Draco. "Why d'you think they're whispering like that?" she asked him quietly.

"Let's find out," he replied and they slowly made their way through the group, stopping behind the group of Gryffindor boys.

"—he named it _Fluffy_?" Seamus was asking.

"Yeah, I know. Who would name a giant three headed dog, _Fluffy_?" Ron said.

Their eavesdroppers shot a look at each other.

"I still wonder what Nicholas Flamel has to do with the third floor," Neville said.

"He must have a major role 'cause Hagrid looked furious when he realized he had let that slip."

Hermione and Draco returned back to the Slytherins. "How do they know about the third floor corridor?" Hermione whispered to him.

"I don't know. I would like to find out who Nicholas Flamel is. We have got to tell Harish; he would know." Hermione nodded.

So that afternoon they did just that. When the two got out of classes, they went and found Harish, Fred, and George in the courtyard. They rushed up to them and then told them about the conversation they overheard. Instantly Harish, who had been lounging against a tree trunk, sat straight up.

"Do you know who Nicholas Flamel is, then?" Hermione asked.

"Of course!" he exclaimed quietly. "It's so obvious what the object is! Dumbledore is hiding a Philosopher's Stone here, at Hogwarts!"

"A what?" both first years asked in unison.

"A Philosopher's Stone! Nicholas Flamel is famous for creating the Philosopher's stone, which produces an elixir that will make the drinker immortal, and will turn any metal to gold. Flamel is also good buddies with Dumbledore. It's all on his chocolate frog."

"So Quirrell is trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone?" Draco asked.

"Looks like it," Harish replied, leaning back against the tree trunk.

"Are we going to do something about it?" Hermione asked.

"No."

"Okay."

* * *

 **Now, for my questions: What's up with Quirrel? Are you looking forward to Christmas? (Harish certainly is :) What do you think that Harish's greatest desire is? R &R your guesses! I look forward to seeing if any of them are right!**

 **~TTFN**


	27. Part 3: Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Chapter Seven: Christmas at Hogwarts**

Christmas was coming. The castle windows sparkled with frost and snow lay thick on the grounds. The lake froze over and the twins were caught bewitching snowballs to flick themselves at Quirrell's turban. Along with that came arranging where they were to stay over the holidays. The twins were staying at Hogwarts because their parents were going to Romania to visit Charlie. Harish was also staying at Hogwarts for Voldemort planned to hold a Death Eater meeting at that time (though he didn't tell the boy this), and he wanted Harish out of the way. Draco, however, was going home for the holidays. He had offered to let Harish come as well, but he decided to stay to keep the twins company. Both of them knew that there would be no chance of ever convincing Lucius to let Weasleys stay in his house even for a day.

Ron had to stay as well, but Neville wanted to return home for the holiday. Seamus opted to stay so that the two of them could continue searching the library for Nicholas Flamel. Ever since that Quidditch match they had been going through book after book, but they hadn't found so much as his name mention in any of the books. Though when the holidays _did_ arrive, the two boys were having too much fun to go searching through the library, as they had their dormitory to themselves.

 _IT'S-BEGINNING-TO-LOOK-A-LOT-LIKE-CHRISTMAS_

The day before Christmas, Voldemort held a Death Eater meeting as planned. Then afterwards he tried to figure out a way to get a Death Eater inside the castle to take the stone. Though it wasn't all that important as he didn't really _need_ eternal life or gold at this moment, but it would be a nice thing to have. Chances were that the stone would stay at Hogwarts for a good little while, so the pale man was thinking of sending a Death Eater to apply for a teaching position the next year. It _would_ be very useful.

But as he thought of this, something nagged in the back of his mind, _It's too good to be true_. He scowled at the annoying voice. Of course it wasn't too good to be true. _But it may be a trap._ The little voice said. _Dumbledore would know that you might want eternal life_. He couldn't argue with that. The old man had certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on him most of his time at Hogwarts, and even afterwards. If it was true that this was a trap set up by Dumbledore, then that meant that he had noticed the Death Eater activity. That meant that he suspected that Voldemort was still alive.

The Dark Lord became alarmed at this. If the old man knew he was still alive, that meant that he would not be far from figuring out that Harish was Voldemort's son. Or even worse, he could find out who the boy really was. Voldemort was absolutely certain that if the old man found out, he would find some way to tempt his son into the light. The pale man put his hands up to his face as these thoughts overcame him. Then his scowl left and a look of determination filled his eyes as he lowered his hands again. He could not let that happen.

"Are you all right?" a voice came from behind him suddenly.

The Dark Lord quickly steeled himself, forcing himself not to jump of fright. Then he arranged his face to remove any surprise. Then he turned to see Bella standing in the doorway.

"My Lord?" she asked tentatively.

"I am fine," he snapped.

"Are you worrying about Harish?" she asked boldly. He didn't respond. "I worry about him much. It would be dreadful if anything happened to him."

"It would," Voldemort replied quietly.

"He will be fine," she said finally. "He always is. The boy is your son after all."

But Voldemort could not help but think about how the boy wasn't truly his son, something that still bothered him to that day.

 _HE'S-AN-ANGRY-ELF_

The most fun Harish had in ages was when he and the twins went outside for a snowball fight. They bewitched the snowballs to do odd things like turn into bunnies and hopping towards someone before transforming into a snake and launching itself at that person. Then, when Fred shot a snowball straight up Harish's nose, the snowball fight turned into a wrestling match in the snow.

Then Harish cast a drying and heating charm on them to dry up and they went up to the castle for the Christmas feast. The feast really was an experience. Harish and his father never got crackers, so they were entirely new for him when he popped several with the twins. When popped, they let out a blast like a cannon and several white mice would shoot out along with some sort of prize. The prizes including various hats and joke products. All in all, it was a great holiday.

 _HOGWARTS-IS-AWESOME—BEST-CHRISTMAS-_ _ **EVER**_ _!_

Neville was visiting his parents at St. Mungo's. The hospital was also decked out for Christmas. There were floating red baubles in the lobby and fairy lights in the hallways. The boy always told his parents about his life. When his Gran stepped out to talk with the nurse, he found himself telling them all about Hogwarts. Neville's father was staring at the ceiling as he spoke, but his mother smiled at him dottily for a few seconds before her eyes would glaze over and she would stare out the window. Neville thought that this was sort of an improvement, for both of them rarely acknowledged that he was there.

"Yeah, there are these Slytherins that are kind of mean. Blake and his gang. Malfoy is in our year. The other day, Blake and Malfoy challenged Ron to a duel. I had to go with them because I had broken my wrist that day and couldn't get into the common room. When we showed up, neither Malfoy or Blake were there. It was just a trap. We ran so far that we accidently ended up in a forbidden corridor on the third floor. You'll never believe what's in there. There was a giant, three headed dog standing on a trapdoor. Seamus figures that it's guarding something, but Hagrid won't tell what it is. The only thing is that he let slip about Nicholas Flamel being a part of it…" and he moved on to tell them more about Hagrid.

After a little while his grandmother came in and visited with his parents before herding him back out of St. Mungo's. Neville sighed sadly wondering why he couldn't have a regular family like Ron. Then he went up to his room to reread his book on outdoor gardening.

 _GARDENING—NEVILLE'S-WAY-OF-LETTING-OFF-STEAM_

Draco dreaded speaking about a particular subject with his father, but he dreaded even more talking about it with his mother. After a little while he forgot about how peculiar girls acted around him, though it always remained in the back of his mind.

Finally an something happened that made him remember about his troubles. As he didn't have Harish to hang out with that year, no one to play Quidditch with, and no homework of any sorts left, he went perusing through their library trying to find something to do.

He sat in the middle of the floor and picked up a book. He flipped through it, read the first two words, and threw it behind him. Then the next book he pulled off of the shelf looked old, but in a good condition. Even though it had been sitting on a shelf full of dusty books, it gleamed from cover to cover.

Draco opened the book and the pages merged into one page and grew, the parchment curling as it grew in length. There was a large tree growing on it and the boy realized he was holding his family tree. He happily looked at the Malfoys from France and watched as more and more ancestors he knew grew out of branches. Finally he saw his mother's family join his and then there were the names. Lucius and Narcissa beside each other and then he appeared, ending the tree.

He looked down at her family and almost started laughing when he saw that he was descended from a veela. No wonder girls acted odd around him. It was far back, which explained why it wasn't as bad as he knew full blooded veelas had on the opposite gender. Then he closed the book and put it back on the shelf. He knew that he must never let Harish know this, or he would be teased for the rest of his life.

 _OH-HOHO-LITTLE-DRACO—QUITE-THE-SNAKE-CHARMER_

Harish always found that a good way to fall asleep was to get up and walk off his extra steam for a few minutes. It wasn't often that Harish couldn't fall asleep, but when he couldn't he liked to use the extra time he had while he was awake. One night after Christmas day, Harish laid in bed wide awake for several hours, staring at the ceiling. Every time he tried to relax, he would either feel like he needed to shift positions, or his mind would flit to some random topic. After he thought over the events of that year and thought of the Philosopher's stone for quite a while, he sighed and slid out of bed. Quietly, he felt his way to his trunk and pulled out his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map.

"Lumos," he said once he exited the dormitory.

Then he pulled the cloak around him and followed the light of his wand, which seemed to be floating in mid-air. He held the map in his other hand and with his nose pressed to the parchment, he made his way to his window seat behind the old tapestry. Maybe it was because it was hard to concentrate on where you were going when you were watching Mrs. Norris grow closer and closer, but he took a wrong turn somewhere and ended up standing in an old disused corridor.

The first door handle he tried was locked but the second one was not. He opened the door carefully, making sure it wouldn't creak, and stuck his head inside. Inside was a classroom that was old and dusty with cobwebs growing in the corner and dust inches thick across the single window. Desks were shoved up to the sides of the classroom and standing in the centre of it, looking completely out of place, was a large shiny mirror. Carved around the frame were the words _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on woshi_. Harish stepped into the room, wishing he could figure out what the words said. Then he realized, he was looking at a mirror! Mirrors turn words backwards! He crept even closer and read in a whisper, _"I show not your face but your heart's desire._ "

His mouth curved down slightly in the faintest of frowns. He had never really thought about what he truly desired. Harish came to a stop directly in front of the mirror and let out a gasp in spite of himself. Instead of showing an empty room (as it should have since he was still invisible), it not only showed him but two other people beside him. Before he inspected the two people, he whipped around to see that no one was there.

Turning back, Harish saw that the people were his father and Bellatrix. Voldemort was standing in the centre with one arm hugging him, and he was looking down at Harish with pride. On the Dark Lord's left was Bellatrix, and he had one arm across her shoulders. She was looking at Voldemort with love and the Dark Lord looked over at her with the same expression, her hands were clasped in front of her and the one on top held a gleaming band of gold on her ring finger. All three of them smiled happily and Harish found himself smiling as well.

Harish suddenly knew what he was looking at. It was his family whole and normal. His family had always been disjointed. The closest thing he had to a mother was a snake or an aunt that wasn't really his aunt. His father never showed affection towards him and he had a whole manor to himself. He had always felt that need to prove himself, but now it burned stronger than ever. The boy knew that he could make this scene possible, and now he knew exactly what he was going to do.

He was going to steal the Philosopher's Stone.

* * *

 ***Grins evilly and chuckles while cracking knuckles* We are officially half-way through part three! The story only gets better from here! I will warn you, parts four to six are my absolute favorites and there will be lots in store for you!**

 **Now here are my questions: Because there is no way Harish could fail in stealing the stone, what do you think he'll do with it? Do you think the fact that Draco inherited veela blood from his mother explains some things? What happens when Gryffindors and Slytherins are too close to one another?**

 **R &R!**

 ***TTFN** *****


	28. Part 3: Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

 **While this chapter is certainly not the shortest I have written, not much happens in it. Still, it is entertaining to say the least. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter Eight: Neville Finds his Courage**

"We're going to _what_?" both twins asked.

"You heard me," Harish replied coolly. "We are going to steal the stone."

"I thought you told Hermione," said George.

"That we weren't going to do anything about it," Fred finished for him.

"I never said that," Harish replied. "I only said that we weren't going to do anything about Quirrell trying to steal the stone."

"How are we even going to steal it?" George asked him.

Harish simply smirked in response. "All in good time, my lovely gentlemen. All in good time."

The next day, when Draco and Hermione returned, Harish told them of this adjustment in his plans for year. He set the two first years to trailing Quirrell as he didn't have time himself.

"But why do you want me to trail him?" Hermione asked. "I thought we weren't doing anything about the stone anyway."

"I want you two to trail him," Harish replied, using a tone that made him sound like he was talking to a kindergartener, "because we need to make sure that Quirrell doesn't go after the stone."

And that statement was true. They would need to know if the Professor did go after the stone to make sure that they got there first and then managed to frame him for the theft. That was the only way they would manage to get it stolen without being caught.

After the holidays, Flint also cracked down hard on the Quidditch team. They began to have practices every day as the next game grew closer. The trio found this very aggravating as very heavy rains had replaced the snow and they always ended all of their practices soaking wet. They slacked off on practices slightly after they found that Snape was refereeing. That meant that he would like award them penalty shots for no reason, though the Slytherins wouldn't complain.

The Slytherins, as the game approached, took to teasing the Gryffindors as they knew they were going to win the match. This resulted in a lot of Gryffindors having various curses and hexes put on them. One in particular was Neville.

"Neville!" Ron exclaimed as Neville hopped through the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. "What happened?"

He helped his friend up, as he had fallen on his face because his legs were stuck together. An older student stepped forward sympathetically and performed the countercurse for the first year boy.

"Zabini," Neville said shakily as Ron lead him to a couch. "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."

"Go to Professor McGonagall!" Parvati urged him.

"I don't want more trouble," Neville mumbled.

"You've got to stand up to him, Neville!" Ron exclaimed. "He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down and make it easier for him!"

"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be a Gryffindor. Zabini's already done that," Neville choked out.

Parvati shook her head sympathetically and handed Neville a chocolate frog.

"You're worth twelve of Zabini, Neville," Ron growled.

Neville smiled weakly and opened the chocolate frog. He took the card and glanced at it. The boy made his way to grab the frog, which was beginning to escape, but his eyes snapped back to the card. "Ron, look!"

"What is it?" Ron asked.

"Nicholas Flamel! I knew I'd seen him before! We all have! He's on Dumbledore's chocolate frog card!"

Neville handed the card to Ron, who read quietly to Neville and Seamus, "Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicholas Flamel."

Seamus started and then leaned in closer to whisper excitedly to his two friends. "Of course! How could I have forgotten? Flamel is famous for inventing the Philosopher's Stone, which is supposed to make someone live forever! I remember me mam talking about it ages ago."

"So that's what Snape's trying to steal?" Neville asked. "The Philosopher's Stone?"

 _DON'T-GUESS-TOO-SOON—YOU-MAY-EMBARAS-YOURSELVES_

Finally it was game day and the trio couldn't be more excited. After the team left for the changing room and Flint's usual threatens to make sure they would win, Draco and Hermione once again found themselves good seats in the stadium. They sat there and waited. Hermione couldn't stop thinking of what happened last match, so she was rather nervous. Finally the teams came out and the balls were released.

"Look—they're off," Draco pointed to the field and they watched as Harish flew high into the sky. Suddenly Blaise Zabini gave a grunt as he was shoved forward as someone walked behind them. The blonde boy turned around to see Ron, Neville, and Seamus.

"Watch where you're going, Weasley," Blaise snapped.

"Watch who you're being rude to Zabini," Ron spat, his face turning an ominous red.

"You best not let your mummy see that temper of yours," Draco drawled, standing up and turning to face Ron. "As I recall, you're certainly not _her_ favourite." He smirked as Ron's ears went from red to purple.

Neville started forward. "Oh, what are you going to do, Longbottom?" Blaise asked. "Stutter at me? Or fall flat on your face again?"

"I'm worth twelve of you, Zabini," Neville stammered. Blaise laughed uproariously.

Neville grew angrier until he gave a shout and launched himself at Blaise. Ron started forward to help Neville, but Malfoy tripped him.

"I don't think so, Weasley."

"Come on Harish!" Hermione screamed suddenly. Harish was pulling into a dive.

"Langlock!" Ron shouted at Draco, but he easily dodged the curse.

Hermione jumped on her seat to watch Harish and Neville and Blaise rolled under her chair as Blaise tried to get the Gryffindor off of him.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Draco retaliated and Ron raised a couple inches from the ground before slamming back into it repeatedly.

"Draco!" Hermione shouted, her eyes still on the field. "Draco, where are you? We've won! Slytherin won."

"What?" Draco asked, turning around and climbing back into his seat. He looked at the field to see the rest of the Slytherin team gathering around Harish, who was holding his fist up in the air, clutching the Snitch.

"Wha—" Blaise said, lifting his head slightly, but Neville socked him in the nose and he passed out, unconscious.

"C'mon," Ron said, pulling Neville to his feet again and they and Seamus left the stands grumpily.

Hermione and Draco, however ran to meet up with Harish and the twins.

"You were brilliant!" both first years chimed at Harish.

"Of course I was," he smirked.

"Oi!" Fred exclaimed.

"What about us?" George asked heatedly.

Harish smiled before faking a thoughtful look. Then he patted them on their arms.

"I guess you were all right. I mean you could have knocked out the _entire_ team opposed to four of them…" he trailed off, smiling.

"Oh, I'm so sorry your lordship!" George exclaimed bowing down and pretending to look scared.

"It won't happen again!" Fred said.

Then both of them said in unison, "We will strive to do better!"

Ron, who had just passed them, gave them an odd look and sped up, whispering to Neville excitedly. The twins snorted before the entire group started laughing at him.

"He's probably—"

"Gone off to tell his buddies that you're—"

"Being dark and forcing my minions to do something for me?" Harish asked, amused.

"Yeah," the twins replied together.

And they all started laughing again.

"Hold on," Harish said as they approached the broom shed. "Is it just me or does it look like Snape's up to something?"

They looked over to see Snape striding across the lawn to the Forbidden Forest, his robes were billowing impressively behind him.

Without waiting for a reply, Harish said, "Come on," and he dragged the twins onto his broom and they took off.

Harish took them low over the trees and silently he slipped onto a rather thick bough of a tree. The twins followed his lead and did the same and then Fred handed the broom to Harish.

"I wish we had something that would make it easier to hear far away," George whispered and the other two nodded before leaning over to listen.

"…d-d-don't know w-w-why you w-w-wanted to meet h-here of all p-p-places…"

"Oh, I thought we would keep this little meeting private," Snape drawled, his voice was icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Philosopher's Stone, after all."

Harish leaned forward. So they _were_ right about the stone! Quirrell was mumbling something, but Snape interrupted him.

"Have you figured out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"

"B-b-but Severus, I—"

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," Snape said menacingly as he stepped forward.

"I-I don't know w-w-what you mean."

"You know perfectly well what I mean," Snape replied.

An owl hooted loudly and Harish missed what was said next. Angrily, he shooed it away and by the time he had started listening again, Snape said, "—your little bit of hocus pocus. I'm waiting."

"B-b-but I-I d-d-don't—"

"Very well," Snape replied. "We will have another little chat soon, and then we will find out where your loyalties lie."

He strode off and Harish noted that Quirrell's face was void of any fear of twitch once again. They waited until he left as well, and then they hopped down and made their way to meet back up with Draco and Hermione and to put up his broom.

* * *

 **Snape, the clever Snape, can tell something's going on with Quirrell. How long do you think it will be before he goes after the stone? What will the Gryffindors do, now that they know about Nicholas Flamel? How will the Slytherins react to Hagrid getting a pet dragon? Review your thoughts!**

 **~TTFN**

 **(I know it's the wrong fandom, but...) *may the force me with you***


	29. Part 3: Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Chapter Nine: Dragon? You've** _ **Got**_ **to be Joking**

After the trio had eavesdropped on Snape and Quirrell, Harish decided that they needed to keep a close eye on the professor. He knew it was only a matter of time before he made a move to get the stone. But, surprisingly, in the next several weeks, there was no more activity.

This set Harish on edge. He didn't like waiting, but he knew he had to bide his time if he wanted to steal the stone without getting caught. On top of that, Hermione started drawing out exam schedules, which only managed to make him more aggravated.

Ron and Neville reluctantly spending more time in the library doing homework as exams approached. The Slytherins had also been more nasty ever since that match. Zabini and Malfoy hadn't seemed to have forgotten about the fight they had at the match, Zabini in particular.

"I'm never going to remember all of this," Ron said aggravated. He threw down his book on the table and leaned back, closing his eyes.

Neville was flicking feverishly through a textbook, trying to get more spell practice in. He glanced up to see a giant form lurking behind a shelf.

"Hagrid! What're you doing here?" he asked.

Hagrid stuck his head around the shelf and glanced around. "I was jus' browsing," he said. Something about his tone suggested that this wasn't really the case. "An' what're yeh up ter? Yer not still lookin' fer Nicholas Flamel are yeh?"

"Oh, no," Ron replied proudly. "We found out about him _ages_ ago. We know what Fluffy's guarding too. It's a Philosopher's St—"

" _Shhh!_ " Hagrid shushed him, glancing around to make sure no one had been in earshot. "Don' go shoutin' about it. Wha's the matter with yeh?"

"We do want to know what's guarding it other than Fluffy," Neville said and Hagrid started motioning for him to stop frantically.

"SHHH!" the giant shushed even louder. "Listen—come an' see me later. I'm not promisin' to tell yeh anything, but don' go blabbin' about it here."

"See you later then," Neville replied and Hagrid shuffled away.

 _I-SMELL-SOMETHING-FISHY—OR-DRAGONY?_

Voldemort was once again sitting in his study. This time he was reading a book. Rain was falling and pattering against the window. The sky was dark and clouds covered the moon. Suddenly the fireplace flared green and the Dark Lord glanced up to see Lucius come spinning out of the grate. He was wringing his hands and he looked slightly dishevelled.

"What is this, Lucius?" Voldemort asked, sitting back in his chair. "I am not usually disturbed at this hour."

The blonde man began wringing his hands again and he walked up to the desk, stalling for time. Finally, he said quietly, "It is gone."

"Gone? What is gone?" the Dark Lord queried.

"Your diary."

Voldemort jerked his head up at his Death Eater and his back snapped straight. "What?" he asked quietly, hoping fully that he had heard the man wrong.

"Your diary…it is…gone."

"How? Where?"

"I have been at work and Narcissa was out shopping," Lucius began explaining. "We had our house locked and warded. The diary was in a secure location. When I arrived home, books and papers were scattered everywhere. Tables were overturned and cushions were slashed. I soon discovered that the diary was stolen. Whoever stole it was looking for it specifically."

Voldemort took a deep breath trying to swallow some of his anger and…fear. That diary was dangerous and he had placed it at the Malfoy's for a reason. He knew he would have to punish the man for this.

"And that's not all. This means that whoever stole this knows things about you that even I don't."

 _I-LOVED-THAT-DIARY—CRUCIO!_

Draco, Hermione, and Daphne were walking from Herbology up to Transfiguration and were passing a group of Gryffindors that were making their way to the greenhouses. Draco stopped and grabbed Hermione's elbow to stop her as well. Then he pointed discreetly over his shoulder at Ron and Neville who were passing.

Ron was saying as they passed, "—honestly I think we should just skip Herbology. I mean, how often are we going to see a dragon hatching?"

"We might get Hagrid in trouble, though," Neville muttered.

Just then Seamus walked up to the pair and saw Draco and Hermione listening.

"Shhh!" he whispered.

The two Slytherins then hastily sped off.

"Dragon?" Hermione whispered as they sat in their seats. "Hagrid has a dragon?"

"He shouldn't," Draco said after a second. "It is against the law to breed dragons in Britain. It was outlawed ages ago."

"Mr. Malfoy," Professor McGonagall suddenly called. "Please pay attention."

Draco could feel his face growing pink and he resign to being silent until class ended. When it did the two of them found Harish and told him about how Hagrid was hatching a dragon.

"So Hagrid is hatching a dragon?" Harish demanded.

"Dragon?" Fred asked. "You've _got_ to be joking."

"But the thing is," Harish said. "How many people wander around with dragon eggs in their pockets? This cannot be a coincidence."

"You think _Quirrell_ gave the gamekeeper a dragon egg?" Hermione asked.

"I don't see who else would have," George replied, agreeing with Harish.

"Draco," Harish suddenly said. "See if you can find anything else about the dragon egg."

Draco nodded and left the common room, heading out to the gamekeeper's cabin. Curtains were pulled shut over the windows and smoke furled out of the chimney. As the boy walked up to the window and peeked around the curtains, he could hear voices.

"Isn't he beautiful?" the giant man was asking.

The baby dragon looked like a slimy, crumpled up black umbrella.

"Hagrid?" Weasley asked. "How fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow?"

Draco saw the gamekeeper's hairy face glance out the window and he ran for it. The boy was almost positive he had been spotted.

"What is it?" Ron asked as Hagrid's face paled.

"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains—it was a kid—he's runnin' up ter the castle.

Ron opened the door and looked out. There was no mistaking that blonde hair. Malfoy had seen the dragon.

The smile lurking on Draco's face the next week put Ron and Neville on edge. They spent most of their free time in Hagrid's darkened cabin, trying to convince him to get rid of the dragon.

"Just let him go," Ron said. "Set him free."

"I can'," Hagrid said. "He's too little. He'd die."

They looked at the dragon, which had grown three times the size it was when it hatched in a week. Smoke rose from his nostrils. Hagrid hadn't been doing his gamekeeping duties because he had been so busy taking care of it. There were empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor.

"I've decided to call him Norbert," Hagrid said, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. "He really knows me now, watch. Norbert? Norbert, where's Mummy?"

"He's lost his marbles," Ron muttered in Neville's ear.

"Hagrid," Neville said quietly. "You live in a wooden house. Give it another week and the whole place will be burned down."

Hagrid bit his lip. "I—I know I can' keep him forever, but I jus' can' dump him."

Neville suddenly turned to Ron.

"Charlie," he said.

"You're losing your marbles too," Ron replied. "I'm Ron, remember?"

"No, your brother, Charlie," Neville clarified. "Doesn't he work with dragons? We could send Norbert to him."

"That's brilliant!" Ron exclaimed. "How about it, Hagrid?"

In the end Hagrid agreed that they could send a letter to Charlie and ask him. When they got a reply from him, he told them to meet a bunch of his friends at the top of the astronomy tower. They agreed. Then, the next day Ron got bitten by Norbert and had to go to the Hospital Wing.

"You know," Ron said when Neville visited him. "Malfoy pretended to borrow a book from me so that he could tease me. He kept saying that he should tell Madam Pomfrey what really bit me…Oh, no!"

"What?" Neville asked.

"The book Malfoy took! It had Charlie's letter in it."

But it was too late to cancel. On midnight that Saturday Neville and Seamus lugged a wooden crate with Norbert in it up to the Astronomy Tower. Charlie's friends took it for them and the two boys then made their way back to the stairway, relieved that they no longer had to deal with the dragon. Both of them stopped, their hearts sinking. Filch was standing there.

"Well, well, well," he wheezed. "We _are_ in trouble."

* * *

 **Gotta love Filch! Now, does yous know what diary they be speaking of? Will Ron and Neville have fun with whatever gruelling task Filch gives them? Will Harish have enough patience to play a good game of chess? Find out tomorrow in the newest update of Dark Heir! I'm so excited! R &R!**

 **TtFn o_0**


	30. Part 3: Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or its characters, or its music...(which is the saddest of all cuz the music is epic...)**

 **Finally, they go through the trap door! Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

 **Chapter Ten: Seven Challenges**

Ron now knew that exams were a horrible experience. He couldn't remember all that stuff for History of Magic, it was _really_ difficult to remember how to brew the Forgetfulness Potion when Snape was breathing down all of their necks, and _why_ were they supposed to be able to make a pineapple tap dance? He had no idea what they would need to use that for outside of school. It was stifling hot and all of the exams were charmed with anti-cheating spells.

After their last exam, they went out to lay in the sunshine, something neither boy had had time for in the past two months. The twins were tickling the giant squids tentacles, causing it to squirt black ink everywhere. Blake was sitting underneath a tree reading. Ron lay on his back looking up at the sky and Neville was eating another chocolate frog.

Suddenly Ron sat up.

"What?" Neville asked, concerned.

Without answering, Ron jumped up and began running over to Hagrid's cabin.

"What is it?" Neville repeated.

"Don't you think it's a bit odd," he finally panted as he climbed over the hill. "That what Hagrid's always wanted most of all is a pet dragon, and randomly some stranger in a pub happens to have one? I mean, how many people just wander around with dragon eggs? Why didn't I see it before?"

They finally reached his cabin where Hagrid was sitting on his porch with his sleeves rolled up, shelling peas into a large bowl.

"Hullo," Hagrid said, smiling at them. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer tea?"

"No, we're in a hurry, Hagrid. I've got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"

"I dunno he kept his hood up." The two boys looked at each other stunned. "It's not all that unusual. Yeh get all kinds of funny people in the Hog's Head. He mighta been a dragon dealer couldn't he? I never saw his face."

Ron stood there, still looking stunned.

"What did you talk about? Did you mention Hogwarts?"

"Mighta come up," Hagrid replied, frowning as he tried to remember. "Yeah…he asked me wha' I did an' I said I was gamekeeper…He asked a bit about the sort o' creatures I look after…so I told him an' I said how much I've wanted to have a dragon…an' then…I can' remember too well, he kept buyin' me drinks…an' then he said I could have the egg if I won the game…but he wanted teh make sure I could keep up with a dragon, an' I said after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy."

"Did he seemed interested in Fluffy?" Ron asked, really getting alarmed now.

"O' course he was! How often do yeh come across a three headed dog? I jus' told him that the trick teh any beast is teh know how teh calm em. Take Fluffy for example, all yeh have teh do is play a bit o' music an' he falls right asleep!" Hagrid suddenly looked horrified and the two boys ran up to the castle. Ron then told Neville that Snape must have been under the hood, and now he knew how to get past Fluffy.

Meanwhile Draco came running up to Harish, with Hermione right behind him.

"Harish!" Draco panted. "Harish!"

Harish looked up from his book and Draco skidded to a halt. Hermione stopped beside him and they both panted hard.

"What is it?" Harish asked.

"Dumbledore's gone," Hermione replied.

"And Quirrell received a letter just now. He's going through the trapdoor tonight."

Harish grinned. "Perfect."

The twins then came up and asked him, "What's going on?"

"We're going after the stone tonight. Look Draco, Hermione, I need you two to watch Ronniekins and Longbottom."

"What for?" Draco asked.

"I think they think Professor Snape is trying to steal the stone. I just need you to keep them out of our way, all right?" The two first years nodded. Harish was grinning like a madman now. He rubbed his hands together and said once again, "Perfect!"

Harish gave the map to Hermione and the two first years then waited outside the Gryffindor common room, to make sure they didn't leave. At midnight Harish gathered up the cloak, he and the twins got underneath it, and they made their way to the forbidden corridor. Harish opened the door the sound of a harp playing reached his ears.

He swore and muttered, "Quirrell's already been through here." The twins nodded and they pulled the trapdoor open. "You two go first."

Again they nodded and Fred jumped through, followed quickly by George.

"Are you all right?" Harish asked after he heard two soft thuds.

"Yeah—"

"There's a soft landing. "

"Ok," he said softly and he heaved himself through the whole in the floor. He glanced around before jumping. "This is Devil's Snare!"

The twins looked down to see that while they had been sitting there, the Devil's Snare had coiled its vines around their legs and arms.

"Lumos solem!" Harish exclaimed and a bright jet of light shot out of his wand. He heaved George up. "Come on!" and they went through a stone passageway. Water dripped from one of the walls and hit Harish.

"We must be miles—"

"Beneath the school," the twins whispered.

"Do you hear that?" he asked as they rounded a corner.

"Sounds like—"

"Wings."

They came to a stop at a door and Harish wrenched it open to reveal a room full of colourful winged creatures.

"Do you think they'll attack—"

"If we cross the room?"

"I don't know," Harish said. He conjured a shield and darted across the room, but nothing attacked. He tried to pull open the door, but it was locked. So he tried unlocking it magically, but it still wouldn't budge.

"Harish," George said. "They're keys."

"I bet the one we need is up there!" Fred shouted.

"There!" Harish said. "The big one! The others are much too small for this keyhole." He looked over and saw brooms lining the wall. "This must be Madam Hooch's enchantment." He laughed. "This is too easy."

And Harish grabbed one of the brooms. Instantly the other keys began swarming around him. He gritted his teeth and batted several away before spotting the right key and charging after it. Soon the twins joined him and they were spinning about the room, attempting to corner the key. Finally Harish pulled into a dive and caught it, rumpling its already damaged wing.

The young wizard then stuffed it into the keyhole and unlocked the door. The next room had black and white tiled floor. Sitting on each of the tiles was a giant statue.

"It's a chessboard," Fred said.

And indeed it was. Harish stepped onto the board and the pawns crossed their swords to keep them from walking to the other side.

"We have to play our way across," Harish said, disappointed. He had never been patient enough for chess. They really didn't have time if they wanted to get the stone before Quirrell. He thought for a minute before saying, "I've got a better idea." He pulled out his wand and pointed it ahead. "Get behind me and when I say 'now' cast shield charms above us."

"Okay."

"Sure."

"Ready? Now— _Bombarda_!"

Rocks flew everywhere and bounced off the shields that the twins had cast. Harish signalled for them to lower their wands and they did so. There was dust everywhere and a giant crater in the centre of the room. All of the pieces were destroyed. Smirking, he made his made through the room and to the other door. The twins walked a little ways behind him, gaping at the wreckage.

"Way too easy," he said before opening the door.

A disgusting smell filled their noses causing them all to bring their shirts up to block the scent. Eyes watering, Harish saw that a troll was lying flat on the floor before them. It was even bigger than the one on Halloween and it had a great big bloody lump on its head.

"Ugh," Harish said as they paused to glance at it. "Come on, I can't breathe."

He pulled open the next door. There was nothing disgustingly frightening in here. There was just a table with a bunch of potions and a piece of parchment sitting on top of it. There were seven potions in total. As they stepped over the threshold, the door slammed shut behind them and a fire sprang up before it and the one on the other side of the room.

"Snape's," he said, picking up the parchment. On it was a riddle. He loved riddles!

The riddle read:

 _Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,_

 _Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,_

 _One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

 _Another will transport the drinker back instead,_

 _Two of our number hold only nettle wine,_

 _Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line,_

 _Choose, unless you wish to stay here forever more,_

 _To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_

 _First, however slyly the poison tries to hide,_

 _You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;_

 _Second, different are those who stand at either end,_

 _But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;_

 _Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_

 _Neither dwarf nor giant holds death inside;_

 _Fourth, the second left and the second on the right,_

 _Are twins once you taste them, but different at first sight._

"Oh, this is brilliant!"

"Does it make—"

"Sense to you?" the other two asked incredulously.

"Yes, just give me a second." He pointed to the bottles on second left and second right. "These are wine, which means the poison is here," he pointed to three bottles. He pointed to the giant bottle on the end. "This will take us back." And he pointed finally to the smallest bottle, the third one in the row. "This will take us forward."

"It's tiny," the twins said together.

He nodded. "Only enough for one person, and there's—"

"Enough for two people—"

"In this one." George held up the bottle to take them back.

"So you go back and I go forward?" Harish asked, receiving nods. "All right then. See you in the common room."

They parted ways. Harish downed the potion and went through the black fire and the door at the end, leaving his two friends behind.

There he saw exactly who he expected: Professor Quirrell. He was standing in front of the Mirror of Erised.

"So it _was_ you!" Harish exclaimed with a satisfied smile.

"Yes, it was me," Quirrell said. He was facing the mirror and hadn't turned when he spoke to the boy.

"But…" Harish muttered, puzzled. His eyebrows drew together as he thought. "Why did you try to kill me? I mean, you, a _professor_!"

"That's what my employer seemed to think…Didn't want me to draw attention to myself…no matter. I would've killed you anyway, if I hadn't been distracted."

"You didn't answer my question," the thirteen-year-old boy drawled.

Quirrell finally turned to face him and smiled. The smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I know who your father is, that's why," the man snapped. "Blake! Or should I say _Riddle_?"

Harish froze. Not only did this man know who his father _is_ , he also knew who he once _was._ No one except himself, Voldemort, Nagini, Bella, and maybe Lucius knew who Tom Riddle was.

"Yes, poor Riddle so far from his daddy. What do _you_ see in the mirror? A real family I expect."

Harish didn't reply but started thinking again. "You said employer…" he muttered. "Who do you work for?" Quirrell didn't say anything but his expression grew dark. "I mean, you taught Muggle Studies last year. You would not have done something like this then. You met someone who changed your mind. Who was it?"

"No one of your concern!" the professor snapped. He then turned back to the mirror.

"Ah," Harish said, smiling. "You don't know me as well as you think."

"What does that matter?"

"Everything. You see, being the son of Voldemort, I am far more advanced than your average third year."

"What do y—"

"Expelliarmus, _Incarcerous_!" Harish shouted and Quirrell's wand shot across the room. Then, ropes shot out of his wand, binding Quirrel from his shoulder to his feet. The rope snapped so tight around his ankles that he fell over and all he could do was wriggle a couple feet before he gave up on standing up.

Harish then walked up to the mirror and stood in front of it properly. The other Harish in the mirror pulled a blood red stone out of his pocket and winked, before placing the stone in his pocket. Harish was surprised as he felt something heavy actually fall into his pocket.

"Well," he said, turning to his professor. "I have what I want. Now, I am going to let you go and you are going to run far. As far from here as you can."

"Why? I could help you get what you saw! If you give me that stone, we could do impossible things!"

Harish smirked. "I know how to get what I want. I do not need some miserable old man who tried to _kill_ me to get it for me."

He walked past the professor and stopped to pick up his wand. Then, Harish turned around. "Relashio!"

The ropes were cut off of Quirrell and he shakily stood up. He waited a second before lunging at Harish. "Crucio," he said with a flick of his wand. Quirrell sank to his knees and let out a yell. "Now leave."

Quirrell didn't have to be told twice. Harish watched as the professor ran out of the chamber and back to the trapdoor. Then, the boy turned to see if there was another exit. There was a ladder leading out of sight behind the mirror. He quickly climbed up the ladder and came out in a small door hidden behind a suit of armour.

There he saw the twins waiting on him. He beckoned them over and the three of them got underneath the cloak. After a second, Quirrell came running past Fluffy, out of the door, and then down the stairs. They heard two great doors slam open as the man left the building. Then, after another minute or so, a faint crack could be heard as he disapparated.

The twins made their way to move, but Harish stopped them right in time to keep them from walking into Professor Dumbledore. Then, they sidled out of the way when he went down the secret door Harish had come through. A minute later, he emerged and walked down the hallway. There Flitwick came out of his office holding a candle.

"What is this, Albus?" he squeaked. "What's going on?"

"The stone has been stolen. Go get Severus, Minerva, and Quirrell."

"No need," came Snape's voice. "I am here."

Then the three boys could hear that McGonagall had joined them. "What's going on?"

"The stone is stolen!" Flitwick piped.

"Wha' is this, Headmaster?" Hagrid asked. Harish though that this was turning into a party in the corridor where they were hidden. "I jus' saw P'fesser Quirrell disapparating on the edge of the grounds."

"He left?" they heard McGonagall gasp.

"I guess we know who stole it, then," Dumbledore replied after a minute. "We need to call the Ministry and have them send someone after him," and he led them all away.

Harish ripped the cloak off of himself and turned to the twins, grinning. "It worked!" He exclaimed. "They think Quirrell stole the stone!"

He pulled the red stone out of his pocket and showed it to the twins.

"Come on," George said.

"Let's get out of here," Fred said.

"Yeah, before anyone else comes," Harish finished and the three of them left for their common room.

* * *

 **One chapter left for part three! Then it's on to the best part of the whole story! :) Now, for my questions:**

 **How did Quirrell know about Tom Riddle? Who does he work for? How would Voldemort react if he learned his son stole the stone?**

 **R &R**

 **TTFN**


	31. Part 3: Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven: So, What Did** _ **You**_ **Do This Year?**

That night, before he went to sleep, Harish wrapped the stone in a clean pair of socks and he placed in his trunk where it couldn't break or be stolen. The next evening was the end of term feast. It got out that Hermione had hexed Ron pretty badly the night the stone was stolen. Though no one knew that she did it to keep him away from the third floor. Either way, the first year girls all whispered throughout the feast. They still believed that she was Sirius Black's daughter. It didn't help that when Hermione noticed they were whispering about her, she look at them superiorly and sniffed haughtily.

"Another year has come and gone," Dumbledore had said, drawing everyone's attention. "And now we find ourselves on the very last day of school. Now before you all eat and pack up ready to leave, we must announce our winners for the House Cup."

He paused as everyone leaned forward in interest. "In fourth place is Hufflepuff with three hundred and four points. In third is Ravenclaw with three hundred and twenty-three points. Gryffindor has four hundred and sixteen points and Slytherin tops it all off with four hundred and thirty-two points!"

A storm of cheering broke out at Slytherin table. Some were banging their goblets on the table and others were so happy that they hugged each other in delight. The twins high-fived each other and then hugged Harish. He simply shrugged and began cheering with the rest of his house.

"Yes well done, Slytherin!" Dumbledore shouted. "But that isn't all. We have some last minute points to award."

"Last minute points?" Harish asked, his eyes drawn together.

"First, I award Ronald Weasley, for standing up to others in his year even though he was injured, five points."

Ron looked around, shocked and Seamus and Neville both thumped him on the back.

"Next, to Mr. Seamus Finnigan I award six points for cool intellect and outstanding detective skills."

A lot of cheering erupted at the Gryffindor and Draco whispered to Hermione, "They're tied with us now."

"And finally, I award two points to Neville Longbottom, who showed courage in the face of danger!"

The Gryffindors all cheered ecstatically and Harish groaned. If he hadn't have done that, Slytherin would have won. So, naturally, the entire house grumbled the rest of the night about unfair headmasters and meddling old codgers.

The next morning Harish and the twins packed up the rest of their belongings into their trunks. Though none of them knew that Harish accidently packed up the Enfolding String that was underneath a pile of his clean laundry, and Fred accidently took Harish's drawing notebook. It didn't matter all that much, as they already knew his father was Voldemort. Then they gathered their trunks and headed for the Hogsmeade Station to get on the train home. They claimed the back compartment as their own and were soon joined by Draco and Hermione.

"Both of you _will_ write, or course?" Harish asked the first years.

Draco nodded, but Hermione frowned. "Can you get mail the Muggle way? I don't have an owl yet. I was thinking of getting one this summer."

Harish frowned at well at this statement. "I don't think so. Our manor is kind of…secluded."

Hermione nodded, looking sad.

"We can get mail," the twins piped up.

"It's all delivered in the village beneath our house."

"If you want, you can write us and we'll pass on to Harish whatever you want."

"Would you?" Hermione asked them.

They both nodded.

"I don't see why _I_ need to write," Draco said, leaning back. "Harish will most likely come over to our manor over the summer."

"What if I don't?" Harish asked, coolly. "I might be busy this summer."

"Oh, I guess I'll write then."

Harish rolled his eyes. Draco was ridiculous sometimes.

"Anything from the trolley, dears?" the trolley lady asked.

Harish smiled and licked his lips.

"I'll have three of everything, please."

He picked out his candy and tossed some gold down on the trolley.

"Are you seriously going to eat all of that?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows were raised.

"Are you kidding?" George asked.

"Of course he will!" Fred exclaimed.

Hermione shook her head.

That evening when the train pulled into King's Cross Station, everyone said their final goodbyes. They climbed off the train and separated to find their parents. Harish found his father and he apparated them to Slytherin Manor. There Harish pulled the stone out of his trunk and bounded down the stairs to Voldemort's study. He held out the Philosopher's Stone for his father. Voldemort looked down at it, surprised.

"It's the Philosopher's Stone," he mumbled, not looking at the Dark Lord. "I stole it for you." Harish looked up at his father as he took the stone from the boy's hands. He was startled to find Voldemort smiling down at him with pride. "What did _you_ do this year?"

Voldemort let out a small chuckle and the two of the were soon laughing together.

* * *

 **How would** _ **you**_ **have reacted if Dumbledore had added idiotic last minute points that caused your house to lose? How long will it take Hermione to catch on to the fact that they believe she is a Black? What happens to Harish when he is cooped up too long? R &R!**

 **~TTFN**


	32. Part 4: Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

 **And now, without further ado, Part Four...the Chamber of Secrets!**

* * *

 **Chapter One: The Riddle of a Diary**

Harish sat miserably at the window in the sitting room. He had not been allowed to visit any of his friends all summer and hardly had been able to even see his father. Death Eaters streamed in and out of their manor every day.

The boy listened to the shouts and bangs coming from his father's study and he sighed. He crossed his arms and resting his chin on his right hand. Finally fed up with it, Harish got up and snuck quietly to the study door. There he pressed his ear up to the door, trying to hear what was going on.

"What do you mean, you still haven't found it?" Voldemort, Harish's father, asked. His voice was loud and annoyed.

"I-I'm sorry," came the voice of whichever poor Death Eater had failed to do what the Dark Lord commanded.

"It has been months. _Months!_ I need it found!"

"Young master hasn't eatens breakfast?" Harish turned to see Dobby walk up to him. "Is young master not hungry?"

" _Shhh_!" he hushed the house elf. Then he pointed to the door. "Do you know what's going on in there?"

"Yes!" Dobby squeaked loudly.

"Quiet!" Harish whispered.

Dobby nodded his head quickly. "Yes," he repeated in a whisper. "Master is missing his diary."

"Diary?" Harish asked.

"Yes! It was stoled! Mr. Malfoy came by months ago and said so! Dobby was scrubbing the door frame and overheard their conversation."

"Why was it stolen?" the soon to be fourteen-year-old asked.

"Mr. Malfoy said it was stoled from his big manor. The thief was looking for its specially!"

"But why was it stolen?" Harish repeated.

Dobby opened his mouth to tell him, but began banging his head on the door post. "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby! Mustn't tell Master's secrets!"

"Dobby _quiet!_ " Dobby stopped and by the looks of it, he had stopped breathing. Harish sighed. "Breathe," he said, annoyed. Dobby gulped in air quickly. "Did he catch you listening?"

Dobby nodded. "Oh such a beating Dobby had never received before."

"So, did he forbid you tell anyone about this diary?"

Dobby nodded again. "Not even young master himselfs!" the elf squealed.

"You are dismissed," Harish said and Dobby disappeared with a crack.

Two weeks later found Harish in the same predicament. He still hadn't had enough time to even request to stay at a friend's house. He wrote the twins about this and they had sympathised with him. After June ended, Harish decided that he should give up and simply practice some Quidditch outside, but that day when he had grabbed his broom and ran to the back garden door, he had stopped when he saw that it was raining. And it rained the rest of the month.

It was surely the wettest July Harish had ever seen. He was stuck inside with only books and Dobby to keep him company, and Dobby was certainly the company Harish did not want. By the beginning of August, all he did was sit on the couch upside down and stare at the fire. Eventually he cracked and decided he wanted to do…something. Anything!

So he wrote a note, grabbed some floo powder, and threw it into the fire. The young wizard stepped into the tall emerald flames and cried, "The Burrow!"

Instantly he began hurtling in up the chimney, spinning like a top. Different grates flashed in front of him until he came to a halt at a rusty looking grate.

"Harish!" chimed two identical voices.

Harish stepped out of the fireplace and dusted the ashes off of his clothing. He had flooed to the living room of the Burrow, where the twins were sitting with a cauldron and a bunch of random ingredients. The windows were dark as it was night.

"What're you—"

"Doing here?" they asked.

"I got fed up with having nothing to do," he replied simply, shrugging his shoulders. "So what are you two doing?"

Fred and George Weasley, Harish's two best friends, glanced at each other before glancing at the bubbling cauldron and then back to Harish. Then the two of them grinned wickedly.

"We are working on stuff for the joke shop," Fred said.

"While everyone else is asleep," George added.

"What are you making?" Harish asked curiously, sitting down next to the two of them.

"We are experimenting—"

"With different ingredients to see what properties—"

"We could use in the future!"

"So nothing in particular at the moment, then?" Harish asked.

The other two sighed and nodded.

"So anything I can do?" the Dark Lord's son asked after a moment.

The twins shook their heads. "We were just about to—"

"Put it up anyway."

Fred scooped the potion into a flagon and carried it up to his and George's room while George grabbed the cauldron. Harish followed them and saw them put the flagon in a chest, lock it, and put the cauldron in Fred's trunk. Then, they both wheeled around and grinned at Harish.

"What d'you wanna do?" they asked in unison.

"I don't know," the pale boy shrugged. "What is there to do?"

"Well," they began before both boys began talking over each other.

"You know that car we—"

"Rode in to the train station?"

Without waiting for a reply, Fred said, "Apparently Dad's—"

"Enchanted it. We've been—"

"Flying it this summer."

"Where Mum can't see us—"

"Of course."

"Flying it?" Harish asked.

As they had been talking they had been leading him through their house and out into their dad's garage. Harish found himself looking at an old, battered, completely _normal_ looking Ford Angela. It was a turquoise blue, but the paint had faded slightly. Harish vaguely recognised it as the car they had all ridden in last summer, as the twins had said. Fred climbed into the driver's seat while George got in the back.

"Well?" Fred asked, his hands on the wheels.

Harish hesitated a moment before grinning and sitting down in the passenger seat. As soon as he shut the door, Fred pulled a stick backwards and pushed down on a pedal that made the car drive in reverse. Harish, who rarely saw any Muggle-made items, was astonished.

"It can go backwards?" he asked with a gasp.

"Of course," George piped up from the back. "How else do you expect Muggles to get out of their drive-in ways?"

The car backed up out of the garage at an angle and Fred flicked a button that caused the lights at the front of the car to turn on. Harish watched excitedly, though he didn't show his surprise. He _was_ supposed to be a cool fourteen-year-old after all. When the car was facing parallel to the Burrow, Fred pushed the stick forward again and the car started going forward. Then, he pulled on a lever and the car started to rise. Harish let some of his excitement show in the form of a wide grin as he watched the car rise steadily into the air.

"It took us ages to figure out how to work this thing, of course," George said as he noticed Harish's grin.

"The first time we flew at night we crashed into the fence—"

"Because we couldn't figure out how to turn the front lights on."

Harish laughed. "I bet it was pretty hard to explain to your mum what happened to the fence."

"Not really," Fred commented.

"We always blame everything on Ron." Harish snorted. "Hey, it works!"

Harish stared out the window for a moment, watching as they drove through a cloud.

"So how does this thing work?" he asked after a moment.

"Oh, it's easy once you figure it out!" George supplied happily.

"This wheel," Fred said, slapping a hand on the wheel he was turning, "Is used to steer the car. If I turn it this way—" he spun the wheel sharply to the left.

"It goes that way!" George finished as the nose of the car started pointing to the right.

"This stick is used to change gears," Fred said, moving the hand he wasn't steering with to the stick. "If I pull it back, the car goes backwards, and if I push it forward it goes forward. If I push it all the way to the top, the car won't move at all. I think the Muggles call it parking."

Harish nodded.

"This lever," George said, leaning forward and pointing at the lever Fred had pulled earlier. "Is what you pull to make the car fly. And this," he tapped a red button. Harish gasped as the car disappeared underneath him. He could tell he was still sitting on something, but he couldn't see it. "Is the Invisibility Booster."

"Neat!" Harish exclaimed as Fred hit the button again and the car reappeared.

"Now," Fred started. "About you coming here—"

"Does your father know?"

The pale boy nodded. "I left him a note. I'm sure he won't mind."

"We'll just have to stick with saying—"

"That you showed up in the middle of the night."

"It _is_ true," Harish said.

"Yeah," the two red-heads agreed.

The sun was just beginning to streak the sky and their surroundings began to lighten as the Fred finally touched the car down on the lawn of the Burrow. He pulled the car around to the garage and parked it there. Then they got out of the car. Harish looked at the Burrow for a moment before they wheeled around.

Mrs. Weasley was marching towards them, scattering chickens, and looking somewhat like a saber-toothed tiger.

" _Ah,_ " Fred said.

"Oh, dear," George muttered.

Harish watched apprehensively as she came to a halt in front of them. Her hands were on her hips and her lips were pursed.

" _So_ ," Mrs. Weasley said.

"Morning Mum!" George said in a jaunty voice.

"Have you any idea how worried I've been?" She asked in a deadly whisper.

"We were just—"

Both of Mrs. Weasley's sons were taller than her, but they coward before her.

" _Beds empty! No note! Car gone—could have crashed—out of my mind with worry—did you care? –never, as long as I've lived—you wait until your father gets home, we've never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy—_ "

"Perfect Percy," Fred muttered.

" _YOU COULD TAKE A LEAF OUT OF PERCY'S BOOK!_ " Mrs. Weasley shouted, losing all self-control she had maintained through her rant. "None of my other sons were sorted into Slytherin!"

All three Weasleys froze and Harish stood there awkwardly. It was him who had talked the twins into getting sorted there. Fred and George stood there with wide eyes, gaping a little in shock. Finally, Fred regained his composure and started shaking with anger.

"So _that_ is what this is all about?" he asked angrily. George got over his shock as well and looked just as angry as his twin.

"Oh, no," Mrs. Weasley backtracked. "I didn't mean—"

"Mean what?" George asked. "That we— _your sons_ —disgraced you by—"

"Being sorted into a rival house?"

"No!"

Their faces were red with anger and Mrs. Weasley looked like she was about ready to start crying. The twins marched off into the house with identical deadly expressions. Harish shot Mrs. Weasley what he hoped was an apologetic look before hurrying after them.

Breakfast that morning was a silent affair. Mrs. Weasley sniffled as she put food on everyone's plates and her eyes looked slightly puffy. The twins both stared at their plates all throughout the meal, and Harish thought about what had just happened.

He knew that it was all his fault that they had been sorted in Slytherin, so therefore his fault that there was such a rift between the twins and the rest of their family. He never did anything good, or wanted to be good, but right now he wanted to fix the situation, but had no idea how. Harish mainly wanted to fix it because he was afraid that the twins were regretting being sorted into his house. The boy feared that they would no longer want to be his friends. They had been his first and only friends for so long, that he had no idea what he would do if that happened. Harish sighed and gritted his teeth, deciding that what was done was done.

The rest of the Weasley children were quiet as well because they could sense something was wrong. They knew something had happened between their mother and their brothers. When breakfast ended, the three almost-fourth years slunk away to the twins bedroom. Once they got there, the twins started muttering darkly.

"Don't know what her problem is."

"You'd think we had killed the Minister."

"Dumb…annoying…"

"Ruins everything…"

Finally they both calmed down and looked up at Harish, who was standing there torn between looking awkward or just upset in general.

"We're not blaming you," they said to him.

Silence fell in the room thick until Harish said, "But it's all my fault. I was the one that suggested you go into Slytherin—"

"But we agreed—"

"Didn't we?"

"We don't care if the whole Wizarding World goes after us," Fred said.

"We will never regret being sorted into your house."

Harish smiled, all of his worries erased. How could he have thought that they would abandon him?

"Now I don't know about you," George said, falling on his bed. "But I'm exhausted."

* * *

 **So yah, Harish officially does not do well when bored. Now, on with the questions!**

 **Who stole the diary? How long will the Weasleys be able to hold up under this tension? What will Harish do now that he has freedom?**

 **R &R**

 **TTFN!**


	33. Part 4: Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...**

* * *

 **Chapter Two: Finally Free**

Ginny Weasley sat in her room. She couldn't wait until school started! She had just finished her chores and was pulling one of her brothers' old copy of Hogwarts: a History off of the shelf to read. The girl sat down on her bed and began reading about the magical castle. After a few moments of reading there came a loud BANG! Ginny poked her head out of her door to see smoke coming out from under the door to the twins' room and floating down the stairs towards her own room. The red-head girl shook her head and closed her door again. The twins exploded things in their room all the time. Everyone in the family simply assumed that they liked the noise.

 _TALL-AND-FUN-AND-PRETTY—GINNY_

Harish wiped black soot off of his eyes and sneezed, spewing more soot all over the floor. The twins shook their heads, resembling dogs that were trying to shake water out of their ears. They were sitting in front of a cauldron that now had a puke-green, tar-like substance in the bottom of it. The pale boy banished all of the soot from the room and the twins muttered a thanks.

"Well," George said. "At least we know now not to add —"

"Pepper-imps to a potion full of bat spleens?" Harish asked.

"Yeah," they all three said together.

"I'm bored," Harish said after a moment.

"You're bored and we just blew up a potion?" Fred asked incredulously.

"Yeah. It is not funny anymore."

"You're impossible," George muttered.

"How about we go fly the car?" Harish suggested.

The twins seemed to consider this a moment. "Dad _is_ at work," Fred said.

"And Mum is visiting Longbottom's grandmother," George continued.

"Let's go, then!" Harish exclaimed, jumping up and nearly flying down the stairs.

So they flew the car around until Harish crashed it into the side of the house. Then they hastily drove it back to the garage and repaired the house as quickly as possible. When they did that, they had several games of Quidditch. Unfortunately, Mrs. Weasley chose to arrive home the exact moment that Harish demonstrated a Wronski Feint to the twins. Apparently she and the twins had gotten over what happened shortly after his arrival, so she started shrieking about how they were all going to break their necks. Then, to punish them, Mrs. Weasley had the twins de-gnome the garden.

Harish, who had two house elves to wait on him and no gnomes to de-gnome, had lots of fun. The trick was to spin the gnome until it was dizzy, and then throw it over the garden wall. The twins made a game out of it, and soon the three boys were competing to get more gnomes over the tree stump several feet away. George won, but Harish didn't mind all that much. He had superior spell-casting skills after all. Then, as Harish was spinning one of the gnomes really fast, it kicked him rather hard and went sailing to the window…which got them grounded to the twins room. And then they started all over again, blowing things up once again.

 _IT'S-A-REGULAR-OCCUANCE—BREAKING-THE-RULES_

Molly and Arthur Weasley sat in their sitting room, the sound of explosions sounding from above them. The house shook and dust fell from the ceiling. Mr. Weasley looked at his wife, who was looking at the ceiling as if she could straight through it and into the twins' bedroom.

"Molly," Mr. Weasley said. "Can't they leave their room?"

"And destroy the house?" she countered.

Another explosion shook the house and the tall, balding man thought for a minute. "Why not take them to Diagon Alley tomorrow? Maybe an outing will get rid of some of their pent up energy."

Mrs. Weasley considered this and then nodded. They needed to buy supplies for school anyway. Their letters with their school supplies had arrived the day before and the Hogwarts Express was due to leave in a week.

So, the next morning the occupants of the Burrow scrambled to get dressed, and then they all met in front of the fireplace where they could floo to Diagon Alley. When she took the flowerpot that held the floo powder off of the mantle, she peered into it.

"We are running a bit low," she said to Mr. Weasley. "We'll have to buy more while we're out today…Ah, well. Guests first! After you, Harish."

Harish took a pinch-full of floo powder and dropped it into the flames. They flared up green and he stepped in.

"Diagon Alley," he said clearly, and he started spinning up the chimney. Finally he came to a halt and walked out of a grate in the Leaky Cauldron. The teen waited for the twins and minutes later, Fred spun out, followed shortly by George. They stayed there until all of the Weasleys had come through, waiting for the all clear from Mrs. Weasley to leave.

"Let's meet in Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy our books," she said to the twins. "And not a single step in Knockturn Alley!"

The three of them then eagerly made their way to Gringotts. Harish got the money he needed before they went to the Apothecary to get Potions supplies. Then, they went to the shop next door to buy quills and parchment. The twins dragged Harish to the Quidditch shop for a quick look at the new Nimbus 2001's and then they spent the rest of their hour at Gambol and Jape's, Diagon Alley's joke shop.

Then all of the Weasleys plus Harish met at Flourish and Blotts. Occasionally Harish wondered what others thought when they saw him with the Weasleys. They were all gangly, freckled, and red-haired. Harish, on the other hand, had pale white skin and dark brown hair. His pale green eyes were unusual and a stark contrast from their brown ones. One thing was certain though. Whoever saw them together, definitely knew that he wasn't related to them.

Completely immersed in his thoughts, Harish didn't see the crowd standing outside the book shop until he had walked up and come to a halt next to the twins. Honestly, he had expected to go in, buy his books, and leave in a process that certainly wouldn't take long at all. Aggravated, he let out a growl and peered around for some explanation to why the shop was suddenly so famous. At seeing a poster on the window, the teen discovered that it wasn't the _shop_ that was famous, but rather the wizard that was doing book signings.

The sign read:

 _GILDEROY LOCKHART_

 _Will be signing copies of his autobiography_

 _MAGICAL ME_

 _Today 12:30 P.M. to 4:30 P.M_

Harish groaned. He didn't like crowds, book signings, _or_ famous people. On the sign was a picture of a wizard with wavy blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a wide smile. Harish tilted his head and observed the picture as Lockhart winked. How could someone fit so many teeth into one smile?

"We can actually meet him!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed.

"Mum _fancies_ him," George said in an exaggerated whisper.

Mrs. Weasley turned and sniffed indignantly and went on inside. Harish did notice that most of the crowd was made of witches Mrs. Weasley's age. A harassed looking wizard stood at the door, saying, "Calmly ladies… Please, no shoving…Mind the books…"

Fred, George, and Harish squeezed their way into the shop. A long line wound to the back of the shop where a table and many books were set up. Bent over the table with a large peacock-feather quill in his hand, was Lockhart. The three boys each grabbed a copy of _Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4_ and snuck up the line to where the rest of the Weasleys were standing. They stood there in line for a while, slowly moving forward.

"Harish!" came a voice from right behind him. A voice that was way too happy to belong to anyone other than Draco Malfoy.

Harish turned around to see Draco creep up to stand by him.

"So are you here with your parents?" Harish asked.

"Yes," Draco replied. "Mother is looking at robes for me, but Father insisted on coming in here with me. Honestly, I think your father sent him to spy on you."

As if to demonstrate this, Draco gestured to where his father was at the front of the shop. The man was craning his neck over the crowd, trying to keep an eye on them.

The older boy snorted. "I don't doubt that he would."

Lockhart grew closer as the line slowly moved forward. The wizard flashed smiles and had dozens of pictures taken by a short, irritable-looking man.

"That Lockhart really thinks he's something, doesn't he?" Draco asked, his nose was pointed to the air ever so slightly. It was a trick he and Harish had learned from his mother.

Harish nodded with some sort of grimace plastered to his face. The only thing he hated more than famous people were self-centred famous people, and Lockhart certainly seemed self-centred.

"Out of the way there," the camera man snarled at Ron. "This is for the _Daily Prophet—_ "

The four boys standing behind him grinned to each other.

"Big deal," Ron muttered, rubbing his foot where the photographer had stepped on it.

Gilderoy Lockhart heard him. He looked up and saw Ron. Then, he saw Neville, who was standing with Ron. After a year, several rumours were going around about the boy. People had even started calling him The Chosen One. So, naturally, he stared. Then, he leapt to his feet and shouted, "It _can't_ be Neville Longbottom?"

The crowd parted and looked at the boy curiously. Lockhart dove forward and grabbed Neville by the arm and pulled him to the front. The crowd burst into applause and Neville's face turned red. Lockhart shook his hand and the photographer started clicking away madly, engulfing the Slytherin trio in purple smoke.

"Nice big smile, Neville," Lockhart said through his own wide smile. "Together, you and I are worth the front page."

"That would be more likely if he wasn't in it," Harish muttered to the twins.

When Lockhart finally let go of Neville's arm, the boy tried to sidle sideways, but Lockhart clamped the poor second year to his side.

"Ladies and gentleman," he said loudly waiting for silence. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time! When young Neville here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography—which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge—" the audience started clapping again. "He had _no_ idea that he would, in fact, be receiving the real, magical me as teacher of Defence Against the Dark Arts this year!"

The crowd cheered and clapped. Lockhart's completed works were soon shoved into Neville's hands and he staggered away to dump them into Ginny's cauldron, intending to buy his own. Finally, Harish stepped forward to buy his books. When Draco, Fred, and George had gotten their books as well, they went to the front of the shop to stand with Ginny and Neville. Ron soon joined them.

"What're you doing here?" he asked Draco rudely.

"What am _I_ doing here?" Draco asked indignantly. "What are _you_ doing here? I didn't realise that Flourish and Blotts let trolls shop here."

"If I'm a troll, what does that make you? A jar of spleen juice?"

Draco smirked. "Not the most inventive insult," he said nonchalantly.

"Boys," Mr. Weasley said walking up. "There's not a problem, is there?"

"No sir," Draco said innocently. "My father and I were just leaving." Lucius clapped a hand on Harish shoulder and walked out the door and Draco said a muttered goodbye. After Mrs. Weasley joined them, they made their way out of the shop. The had barely gone forward when a wizard bumped into Ginny, sending her cauldron flying with a loud clang.

"I am so sorry," the man said, stooping to pick up Ginny's books.

Harish watched as the man placed the books in her cauldron, but the teen couldn't help but notice that the man kept his face angled away from the group. That was odd. Soon he forgot about it as they left Diagon Alley and he and the twins packed up their trunks, laughing about Draco teasing Ron.

* * *

 **My questions for you this lovely day:**

 **Isn't it ironic that Harish hates famous people? Don't you love Draco and Ron banter? What house do you think Ginny will be sorted into? To find out, R &R!**

 **~TTFN**


	34. Part 4: Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Three: First Years…They're so Innocent**

The end of the summer came rather fast. On their last night at the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley cooked a full-out feast to celebrate Ginny finally going off to Hogwarts. Then, the twins and Harish set of a case of Filibuster's Fireworks, which burned red and blue for nearly an hour. Then they had one last mug of hot chocolate before heading to bed.

The next morning there was as much as a scramble to leave as there was the year before. They were up at dawn, but it seemed that no one could move quite fast enough. Mrs. Weasley dashed about in a bad mood looking for spare socks and quills. Everyone kept colliding on the stairs and Ginny tripped and nearly broke her neck. The twins both came down the stairs with bits of toast stuffed in their mouths, and they hadn't gotten their shirts on yet.

Thanks to a charm that had been placed on the car, Harish, Fred, George, Ron, and Percy were all able to fit in the back seat comfortably. All of the trunks fit perfectly in the back of the car. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny sat in the front seat and Mr. Weasley got in the driver's seat.

Finally they left and Mrs. Weasley peered into the backseat as they drove down the drive way. "Muggles do know more than we give them credit for, don't they?" They drove two feet before George remembered that he forgot his box of fireworks, and they had almost reached the highway when Ginny shrieked that she had left her diary. By the time she climbed back into the car, they were running late and tempers were high.

Mr. Weasley glanced at his watch and then his wife.

"Molly, dear—"

" _No_ , Arthur—"

"No one would see—this button here is an Invisibility Booster I've installed. We'd be there in ten minutes and no one would be any wiser—"

"I said _no_ , Arthur, not in broad daylight—"

They reached King's Cross Station at a quarter to eleven. Mr. Weasley dashed across the road to get trolleys for their trunks and they all hurried into the station. They each went through the barrier separating platforms nine and ten and climbed on the train. They made it on with minutes to spare. The train pulled out just after Harish and the twins chose a compartment to sit in. As it was just the three of them in there, they spent the next few minutes reminiscing their summer.

"And when you crashed the car—"

"Right into the side of the house!" the twins exclaimed, laughing.

"I know!" they fell into a comfortable silence before Harish suddenly looked angry and slammed his hand into the seat.

"What?" the twins asked.

"We should have flown the car to school!" he almost shouted. "It would have been awesome!"

"Totally!" both twins agreed.

"Oh, well," Harish said after a second. He slumped back against his seat.

"We're already on—"

"Our way now."

The three fourth years let out one collective sigh. After a minute of silence, the compartment door opened and Draco, Hermione, and Daphne came in to sit with Harish.

"Can we sit here?" Daphne asked Harish. The faintest trace of pink streaked across her cheeks as Harish nodded. Harish didn't notice, but watched her sit down. The twins smirked at each other.

"Had a good summer?" Hermione asked.

Both of them nodded silently and Draco started talking about his summer. Then, the twins told them all about their adventures over the holiday. The compartment door opened again and this time Ginny stood there.

"Can I come in?" she asked, her face flushed a bright red and she glanced at Draco. Harish nodded.

They began talking again until the trolley came around with candies. After everyone in the compartment had had their fill of sweets and the windows had grown dark, they finally pulled to a stop in the Hogsmeade Station. When they exited the train, Ginny went off to follow Hagrid to the lake and Draco, Daphne, and Hermione gasped when they saw the carriages pulling themselves. The trio simply ignored it, as they were used to it.

The six of them climbed into one of the carriages and they rode on the bumpy road up to the castle, walked past the winged boars, and then went into the Great Hall where they sat in the centre of the Slytherin table. Once again there was room on the outside ends of the table. Harish made the twins save a seat for Ginny, just in case.

Each of the first years were sorted. This lot was looking even smaller than they had the year before. Surely Harish hadn't been _that_ short his first year? Finally Ginny stumbled nervously up to the stool where the sorting hat was placed over her head. The whole hall sat still for a moment. Ron glared at the hat, as if he was daring it to sort her into Slytherin. The twins watched expectantly, wondering if she would follow them to the house of snakes. Finally, the hat's brimmed twitched and it bellowed, "SLYTHERIN!"

"No!" Ron shouted from the Gryffindor table. "Traitor!"

Neville pulled Ron down and forced him to sit back in his seat. Harish laughed and the twins beckoned Ginny over to sit with them.

"Welcome to my house," he said to Ginny once she joined them.

"Your house?" Ginny parroted. "How can this be _your_ house?"

"First years," Harish chuckled. "They are so innocent, aren't they?"

Ginny blushed. Everyone around them laughed. Harish grimaced. All of his conversations were overheard by at least one curious person.

"Don't you all have friends to talk to?" he asked, annoyed. Everyone, except Harish's immediate friend group, averted their eyes to their plates. "Much better," he added to himself.

Ginny suddenly understood what he meant by 'his house'. The last person was sorted and food then appeared on the golden platters. Ginny gasped and everyone dug in. The twins in particular began shovelling food into their mouths.

"I wonder if something will happen this year that is just as interesting as last year," Harish muttered to the twins.

"Nah," George said, stuffing a chicken leg in his mouth.

"What were the odds of something like that happening in the first place?" Draco asked. He had apparently been eavesdropping on their conversation.

"Next to nothing," Hermione replied. She had been eavesdropping too, then.

Daphne and Ginny looked confused as they had no idea what happened with the Philosopher's Stone. Harish shook his head. _Why_ did _everyone_ have to eavesdrop on him? The food was some gone and replaced with desserts. When the desserts were gone, Dumbledore stood up and gave his usual start-of-term announcements. He announced Professor Lockhart as the new Defence professor, and then they left to go to bed.

They split up from Ginny once again and then the boys went into their separate dormitories. Harish laid down in his bed and watched as the light glimmered off of the ceiling. It was good to be back.

* * *

 **I just couldn't help myself. Another Weasley in Slytherin! You gotta admit, Ginny will make a nice edition to their group, even if she doesn't do much her first year. Now, for my questions:**

 **Isn't wittle Hawish turning into a lovely copy of his father? He can hold his own in a fight, but how do you think he would hold up against the Whomping Willow? What do you think will happen once the Chamber is open?**

 **_TTFN_**


	35. Part 4: Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Four: Mandrakes, Pixies, and Trees—Oh, my**

The next morning Professor Snape went around handing schedules out to them. He paused when he handed Harish his. The sallow man's eyes swept up and down the table before resting on Harish, who was sitting dead centre. Harish narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Finally he moved on, handing out schedules to the three second years.

The second year Slytherins had Transfiguration and Charms first while the Gryffindors had double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs. Ron and Neville made their way down to the green houses. The class gathered outside the greenhouses and waited for Professor Sprout to show up. While they waited, a curly haired Hufflepuff walked up to Ron and Neville, sticking his hand out to shake.

"My name is Justin Finch-Fletchley," he said brightly, shaking Neville's hand. "I know who you are, of course. Neville Longbottom, The Chosen One." Neville nodded awkwardly and Justin shook Ron's hand. "And you're Ron Weasley, right? My name was down for Eton, you know. I can't tell you how glad I was when I got my letter for here instead. Of course, Mother was slightly disappointed, but since I made her read Lockhart's books, I think she see how useful it will be to have a wizard in the family…"

"What's Eton?" Ron mouthed at Neville. He shrugged.

"Green House 3 today, chaps," Professor Sprout informed them when she arrived.

Ron and Neville looked at each other excitedly. That meant that they were dealing with more dangerous plants. They all followed her into the greenhouse. There were rows of tables with four pots each on each table. Beside the pots were tufty greenish-purple plants in little cases of soil.

"Now, we'll be repotting Mandrakes today. Can anyone tell me the properties of a mandrake?" No one raised their hands. "No one? What about you, Longbottom?"

Neville started at being called on and struggled to remember what a Mandrake was. He was sure he had read about them.

"It's a…restorative?" at receiving a nod he continued more confidently. "You can use it to return people who were cursed or transfigured back to the way they were."

"Excellent. Ten points to Gryffindor." Ron thumped Neville on the back. "The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Can anyone tell me why?" A blonde Hufflepuff raised his hand. "Yes, Macmillan?"

Macmillan answered, "The cry of a mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it."

"Precisely. Ten points to Hufflepuff. Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young." She pointed to the mandrakes as she spoke as some people moved forward to have a better look. "Everyone take a pair of earmuffs."

There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair that wasn't pink and fluffy.

"When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered. When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right—earmuffs on."

Neville snapped his earmuffs on and they blocked out all sound completely. Professor Sprout put the pink, fluffy pair over her own ears, rolled up her sleeves, grasped the stalk of one of the plants, and pulled firmly. Out of the soil popped what looked like a bawling baby with mottled green skin and leaves growing out of the top of its head.

She took the pot from beside her and dumped the mandrake in it, burying him in dark, damp soil until only the tufty leaves were visible. Professor Sprout dusted off her hands, gave them all a thumbs up, and removed her earmuffs.

"As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cry isn't fatal yet, but it will knock you out for several hours. I'm sure none of you want to miss your first day back, so make sure your earmuffs are on tight while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up. Four to a table—there is a large supply of pots here—packs of soil over there—and be careful of the Venomous Tentacula, it's teething."

She gave a large, spiky red vine a slap as she said so, making it draw in the long feelers that had been inching over her shoulder. Ron, Neville, and Seamus went to get themselves a table and they were soon joined by Justin Finch-Fletchley.

The four of them set to work immediately once their earmuffs were back on. Professor Sprout had made it look easy, but they soon discovered that it was far from simple. It turned out that the Mandrakes did _not_ like being removed from their soil, and when you did so, they would kick, flail, and bite. They also didn't seem to want to go back into the pots either. Neville spent ten minutes trying to squash a particularly fat one into its pot.

By the end of class everyone was sweaty, achy, and covered in dirt. Professor Sprout let them out slightly early so that they would have enough time to take a quick shower before Transfiguration. It was turning out to be a rather wild first day back.

 _TURN-THOSE-BEETLES-INTO-BUTTONS!_

After breakfast Harish, Fred, and George made their way to the field near Hagrid's hut where they had Care of Magical Creatures. Professor Kettleburn, their professor, was already waiting there on them. Beside him, a large crate was rattling. There were round holes around the top of the box and Harish saw green fingers poking through them.

Kettleburn waited for the rest of the class to arrive and then he opened up the crate and pulled out what looked like a cross between a monkey and a bullfrog. It had smooth green skin and short horns on its head. Its mouth was wide and grinning. It had long arms with webbed fingers. There was a large pustule on its forehead.

"Can anyone tell me what this is?" Kettleburn asked in a gruff voice. No one raised their hand. "No one? Well, this is called a Clabbert. It is a XX rated magical creature." The Clabbert pulled itself out of his grasp, climbed up to sit on his shoulder, and leered down at the students. "The pustule on its forehead warns when there is danger (or Muggles) nearby. Today you get to handle these. Three people to a Clabbert, since I don't have enough for all of you."

Each student went up to the crate to pick a Clabbert. Harish picked up one of them and the class listened as Professor Kettleburn explained how to hold it properly. Then he let them look at their Clabberts. Harish was holding the one that he and the twins were sharing. The twins were on either side looking at it. The Clabbert wrenched itself out of his grasp and climbed up to his shoulder, onto Fred's shoulder, on top of his head, and then it leapt across and landed on George, who grabbed a hold of it. The Clabbert started sniffing at George's pocket.

"Do you want this?" George asked, pulling a banana from breakfast out of his pocket. The Clabbert grinned at him and snatched it out of his hand.

Fred and Harish laughed at the stunned look on his face and watched as the creature peeled the banana open. Then, a long pink tongue shot out of its mouth and tore a chunk of the banana away, pulling the food into the Clabbert's mouth.

The three boys laughed again at the sight of the creature's tongue zipping out of its mouth. The Clabbert finished the banana off and tossed the peel on George before it climbed back over to Harish and started sniffing at his hair. Then it grabbed hold of his head with its four feet and flipped its head down to look at Harish's face. It gave him a mischievous smirk before hopping from his head down to the ground and it scampered away.

"Wait! No!" he shouted, and began to run after it. He had no idea what Kettleburn would do if he lost one of the Clabberts. The twins dashed after him and soon the three of them were chasing across the field after the rather quick monkey hybrid.

It paused and leered at Harish and he dived, trying to grab it. The twins stopped short behind him, panting. The Clabbert hopped over to the trunk of a tree and looked at Harish. Before he could stand up, he saw its pustule glow red.

"Harish—"

"Why is that thing glowing at me?"

"Harish look at the tree!"

Harish rolled over onto his back to see that he was sitting right underneath the Whomping Willow. Before he could react, it swung a thick branch straight towards his face.

"ARGH!" he shouted and rolled to the side to avoid the blow.

Quickly, he sat up and did a kind of backwards crab walk, trying to avoid the branches that were now swinging wildly. Harish raised himself into a crouch, jumped over another branch, and the twins grabbed him by the arms and pulled him out of the mad tree's reach.

"Where did the Clabbert go?" he asked, looking around.

"I dunno," Fred replied as they glanced around for it.

"Last time I saw it, it was on a branch—"

"A branch that was swinging towards you."

"Do you think it went down the passage way?" Harish asked. The twins shrugged. "Oh, well. We will just have to tell Professor Kettleburn what happened.

And they did just that. Surprisingly, Professor Kettleburn didn't look angry. He simply said, "Oh, well, he probably scampered off into the woods. That's where they live anyway." He clapped Harish's shoulder. "Don't worry about it."

And he didn't worry about it. Soon, the class ended and they made their way up to the castle for Charms. After Charms class, they headed to lunch. Harish grabbed a sandwich and a banana. He ate the sandwich quickly and then opened the banana. When he did, a green head poked out of his school bag.

 _THE-CLABBERT—DUN-DUN-DUN!_

"What do we have this afternoon?" Ron asked as they walked out to the courtyard after lunch.

Neville pulled out his schedule. "Um…Defence Against the Dark Arts."

Ron nodded. They went out to sit underneath a tree and Ron leaned against it. After a few minutes, Malfoy came outside and walked past them. Ron turned and watched as he walked over to where Blake and the twins were standing in a huddle, peering at something.

He shook his head and leaned back up against the tree trunk. After a few minutes, they left for Defence Against the Dark Arts. Lockhart was standing behind his desk, waiting on them. When the class finally arrived, Lockhart cleared his throat for silence. He reached forward and picked up Neville's copy of _Travels with Trolls_ , and held it up to show his winking portrait on the cover.

"Me," he said, pointing to it and winking as well. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, and five-time winner of _Witch Weekly_ 's Most Charming Smile Award—but don't worry about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by _smiling_ at her!"

He waited for the class to laugh; a few people smiled weakly.

"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books—well done. I thought we'd start today with a quiz. Nothing to worry about—just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in—" He walked around handing out test papers, returned to the front of the class, and said, "You have thirty minutes—start— _now_!"

Neville looked down at his paper and read:

 _What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favourite colour?_

 _What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?_

 _What, in your opinion, it Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?_

On and on it went, over three sides of paper. There wasn't a single question that wasn't about Lockhart himself. Half an hour late, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them up front.

"Tut, tut—hardly any of you remembered that my favourite colour is lilac. I say so in _Year with a Yeti_. And a few of you need to read more carefully—I clearly state in _Wanderings with Werewolves_ that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between magic and non-magic peoples—though I won't say no to some Ogden's Old Firewhiskey!"

He gave them another wink and Ron and Neville stared in disbelief. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas were shaking with silent laughter. Lockhart bent down behind his desk and pulled out a covered cage, placing it on the desk.

"And so—to business—" he muttered. "Now—be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to mankind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can fall to you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm." Ron leaned forward for a better look at what was in the cage. Dean and Seamus stopped laughing now. "I ask you not to scream, or you might provoke them."

The class leaned forward eagerly, wondering what could be in the cage and Lockhart whipped the cover off.

"Yes," he said dramatically. " _Freshly caught Cornish pixies._ "

Seamus couldn't control himself. He let out a snort of laughter that even Lockhart couldn't mistake for a scream of terror.

"Yes?" he smiled at Seamus.

"Well they're not—they're not really _dangerous_ , are they?" Seamus choked.

"Don't be so sure," Lockhart admonished, waggling a finger annoyingly at Seamus. "Devilish, tricky little blighters they are!"

The pixies were bright blue and about eight inches tall, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of crickets arguing. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and zooming around the cage, rattling the bars and making bizarre faces at the people nearest them.

"Right then," Lockhart said over the din the pixies were making. "Let's see what you make of them!" and he opened the cage.

It was complete, utter chaos. The pixies shot in every direction like the twins' fireworks. Two of them seized Neville by the ears and pulled him up into the air. Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass. The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom. Inks bottles were sprayed everywhere, books and papers were shredded, pictures were thrown out the windows, and trash bins were turned over. Soon half the class was sheltering under desks and Neville was swinging from the chandelier.

"Come on now—round them up, they're only pixies," Lockhart shouted. He rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand, and bellowed, " _Peskipiksi Pesternomi_!"

It didn't do anything at all. One of the pixies grabbed his wand and threw it out the window as well. Lockhart gulped and dived under his desk, narrowly avoiding being squashed as Neville came crashing down from the ceiling

The bell rang and everyone left as quickly as possible. Ron helped Neville up and they dashed out as well. "Can you _believe_ him?" Ron roared as they got to the common room.

"He just wants us to get some hands on experience," Lavender Brown said.

" _Hands on?_ " Seamus questioned.

"Lavender, he had no idea what he was doing," Ron replied.

"But what about all the things he's done?" Parvati asked, coming to her friend's aid.

"He says he's done," Ron muttered.

Neville had to agree that Lockhart seemed like a fraud.

* * *

 **And we get to see lovely Lockhart in action...or rather, inaction...Anywho, here are my questions for the chapter:**

 **How long do you think that Harish will catch on? (that Lockhart's a complete fraud anyway, because everyone knows he's an idiot). How do you like the Clabbert? Will Draco make it onto the Quidditch team? R &R!**

 **~TTFN**


	36. Part 4: Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Five: The Voice of a Madman?**

Draco had mapped out his entire life at Hogwarts before he had even gotten there. He _knew_ that Harish would be Seeker on the Quidditch team, and Draco himself just _had_ to be the star chaser. He and Harish had come to this decision years ago. Then, Draco started worrying that he wouldn't be let on the team. So he had devised a plan.

After the first couple of days, his plan was set into motion. His father bought brand new Nimbus 2001's for the entire Slytherin Team and told the school that he would donate them as long as Draco got to be a Chaser on the team. So, naturally, they caved. The twins, especially were ecstatic at the thought of brand new brooms, and not only were they brand new, but they were literally the best brooms gold could buy.

Flint came up to Harish at breakfast Saturday morning, informing him that their first practice of the season would be held shortly. After they ate breakfast Harish, the twins, and Draco made their way down to the locker room where they changed into their Quidditch robes, they each grabbed a Nimbus 2001, and Flint led them out onto the field.

The Gryffindor team was already on the pitch, flying around the stadium. Someone pointed at the Slytherins and their captain, Oliver Wood, landed ungracefully on the ground with the rest of his team following him. He stomped up to Flint.

"Flint!" Wood bellowed. "This our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"

"Plenty of room for all of us, Wood," Flint replied.

The rest of the Gryffindor team arrived. Harish smirked at them. Wood growled.

"But I booked the field!" Wood spat. "I booked it!"

"Ah," Flint said. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. _'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Chaser.'_ "

"You've got a new Chaser?" Wood asked, distracted now. "Where?"

Draco came from the back of the group, a wide smirk plastered all over his face.

"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" one of the girls asked.

"Funny you should mention Draco's father," Flint said. Harish's smirk widened and the twins grinned. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."

The entire team held out their brand new brooms and watched as the Gryffindors gaped.

"Very latest model. Only came out last month," Flint said carelessly as he flicked a piece of dust off of the handle. "I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the Cleansweeps—sweeps the board with them."

It seemed like none of the Gryffindor team could think of what to say.

"Good aren't they?" Draco asked. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raffle of those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them." They all howled with laughter. Wood started forward angrily, but one of his team mates pulled him back.

"Come on, Wood," he said. "Let's go."

And the Gryffindors slowly left the field.

"Finally," Flint muttered.

 _WE-TOLD-THEM—WE-TOLD-THEM!_

Practice lasted well into the afternoon and by the time the four boys left the Quidditch pitch, it was dinner time. They enjoyed the chicken pot pie for dinner, exchanging how their weeks had gone. They made fun of Lockhart and a green head smiled at them out of Harish's school bag.

After Harish found the Clabbert in his bag, he reasoned that Professor Kettleburn hadn't been too concerned that one of his creatures had been lost, so naturally he kept it. The teen figured that it could come in handy to have something to warn him when danger was coming, and the Clabbert made a nice, funny edition to their group.

When it had been proclaimed that they were going to keep him, Ginny decided that he needed a nice, sweet name. Why she thought Egelbert was a sweet name Harish had no idea, but it had stuck. So everyone called him Egelbert except for the twins who thought it was hilarious to call him variations of 'egg' or 'Bert'.

After dinner, the group of seven made their way to the common room. Ginny left saying she had to find a book in the library and Harish waved her away distractedly as he listened to a story of Hermione's as she told them about her holiday to Spain she had took several years back. Foreign countries had always fascinated him. The twins played a game of exploding snap and Harish watched. Then, at about seven, Harish and the twins set of a box of fireworks that burned until nearly nine o'clock.

Slowly the common room emptied and Harish, the twins, and Draco were the last ones left. The twins were plotting a prank, Draco was polishing the handle of his Nimbus 2001, and Harish was curled up reading a book. There was silence other than the merry crackling of the fire. But suddenly, the silence was broken and Harish bolted upright in his chair.

" _Come…come to me…Let me rip you…Let me tear you…Let me kill you…"_

Harish's eyebrows drew together. The voice sounded raspy and venomous.

"What?" he asked. He looked to where the twins were sitting on the couch behind him.

"What?" they both asked together. Draco looked up from his broom.

"What?" Harish asked again.

"What?" Draco asked, completely confused.

"Oh, very funny," Harish snapped sarcastically at the twins. "You don't have to pretend that wasn't you. I _heard_ you two."

"Heard what?" the twins asked.

Harish froze. He could tell that they honestly had no idea what he was talking about.

"You…you didn't hear the voice?" the boy asked.

"Voice?"

"What voice?"

"Nothing," Harish said. "I must have dozed off. I am going to bed."

He walked to their dormitory and pulled the curtains around his bed. The pale boy couldn't think of why he had heard what he had and the twins didn't. He rubbed a hand over his face, deciding that he _could've_ actually dozed off, so he laid down, forgetting to take his clothes off, and fell asleep.

Over the next couple of weeks as October came in, cold weather clung to the castle and rain battered against the windows. Madam Pomfrey had to stock up on Pepper-Up Potion as colds flared up. Ginny, who had started looking rather pale recently, was bullied into taking some by Fred and George. Harish forgot about the voice as Quidditch practices increased once again as the first game approached.

Every day Harish came in soaking wet and splattered with mud. Luckily he knew several charms that could fix that, so he was cleaned up before he could drip all over the entrance hallway. It was a good thing too, as Filch came down with the flu and was in a rather bad mood. He had turned to giving students that dripped rain in the hallways detention.

As Halloween approached, everyone anticipated the Halloween feast. Harish and the twins, however, had the more pressing matter of figuring out what prank to pull on Halloween. Finally they came up with a scheme that would do. Then they spent the last week or so casting spells on Fred's fireworks. Finally it was the night before Halloween and Harish shrunk all of the fireworks into a single sheet of parchment, placed it in the centre of the Great Hall, and disillusioned them to blend in with the floor. He added the last final touch by attaching a disillusioned string to the parchment and wiring it outside the door.

The next day when the feast started, they all sat down in their usual seats. Harish enjoyed the feast greatly, eating plenty of chicken and sweets. Finally he stood up suddenly and said, "Oh, I left my drawing notebook in the library!" and dashed out of the hall.

On his way out, he heard Fred mutter loud enough for everyone in the general vicinity to hear, "He never lets us look in that notebook."

"He _is_ rather attached to it," George replied and Harish shut the door behind him. Grinning, he crouched down by the string and watched the golden light flow out from under the doors.

Once the doors closed, the twins grinned at each other before flicking their wands discreetly. All of the lights went out and it was suddenly so dark, they wouldn't have been able to see their hands if they had waved them directly in their faces. When Harish saw the lights go out, he conjured a flame out of his wand and set the string on fire.

The twins watched as a tiny spark flew along the string and hit the parchment. The whole thing flickered with flames for a second before, BOOM! An orange spark shot out of the paper and exploded in a shower of sparks high above. Another spark shot out, and then another. They all gathered together, exploding much longer than they should've if it was magic. As the last sparks shot out, the explosions above formed into the shape of a pumpkin. It had red, triangular, glowing eyes and a gaping, crooked whole for a mouth. The mouth opened and closed, the pumpkin zoomed around the Great Hall, and then it flew out the window.

The lights flickered on and everyone started cheering. Outside, Harish stood beside the door with Egelbert sitting on his shoulder, the Clabbert's green tail curled around his head. The teen figured that the creature wouldn't like the loud bangs, so he had taken him with him. He looked up at Egelbert and the monkey-hybrid grinned back at him. Then, Egelbert's grin slid off his face, his eyes widened, and the pustule on its forehead glowed faintly.

Harish stopped. Before he could wonder what sort of danger Egelbert was trying to warn him of, he heard a voice. The same voice from that night.

"… _rip…tear…kill…"_

The doors to the Great Hall opened and Fred and George came out.

"You were right!"

"It was brilliant!"

"You should've been—"

"Shut up a minute—"

"… _soo hungry…for so long…"_

The voice started fading, moving up. Harish stood there for a minute before bolting after it.

"Harish—"

"What're we—?"

"SHUT UP!" he roared. He couldn't hear the voice anymore, and he skidded to a halt.

Fred opened his mouth to ask something, but Egelbert turned around and they saw as its pustule gradually grow brighter and brighter until the glow was so strong that it tinted everything nearby red. George saw it as well, but before he could ask what was going on, Harish bolted off again.

"… _I SMELL BLOOD!"_ Harish heard.

"It's going to kill someone!" he shouted as he began running after it once more.

They rounded a corner and the three of them stopped short. Harish nearly slipped and glanced down at a large puddle that covered nearly the entire corridor. Egelbert ran down Harish's arm and into his school bag, causing the red glow to go away. On the far wall between two windows were the words:

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAD BEEN OPENED

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

The words shimmered from the light of a torch nearby. Harish spotted a bulk hanging underneath the message. He stepped forward to inspect it.

"It's Filch's cat," he said, looking at the feline that was frozen stiff, her eyes wide. "Mrs. Norris."

They heard rumbling as the feast ended and Harish found himself rooted to the spot as students flooded into the corridor. There was a gasp. There was a scream. And for the first time in his life, Harish was caught at the scene of a crime. At the scene of a crime he didn't commit, no less. He couldn't move, he couldn't think. His eyes flashed bright green, frightening everyone that had gathered around them. The Chamber had opened, and he _knew_ that neither he or his father had done it. So if they hadn't, something far more powerful must have.

* * *

 **Cue evil cackling! :D Yup, I definitely love this year. It was so fun to write! Now, on with the questions!**

 **I will ask until I get some replies...Who stole the diary? How long will it take Harish to notice that Ginny is acting peculiar? For that matter, how long will it take for Harish to solve the mystery of the diary himself? R &R!**

 **~TTFN**


	37. Part 4: Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Six: Out of My Comfort Zone**

He felt as if he had woken from a terrible dream when Filch ran up, his finger shaking as he pointed to him. "You—murdered my cat!" Harish stepped back and shook his head, no words still able to come out of his mouth. "I'll kill you! I'll—"

" _Argus!"_

Dumbledore had arrived. _'Great,'_ Harish thought glumly. _'Just what I needed.'_

He swept past Harish and the twins, followed by a number of teachers, and pulled Mrs. Norris off of the torch bracket.

"Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch. "You too, Mr. Blake, Mr. Weasley—both of you."

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly.

"My office is nearest, Headmaster—just upstairs—please feel free—"

"Thank you, Gilderoy," Dumbledore said.

The silent crowd parted to let them through. Harish caught saw a glimpse of Hermione, Draco and Daphne as they passed. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors McGonagall and Snape.

When they entered Lockhart's office there was a flurry of movement as multiple Lockharts dove out of their frames, their hair in rollers. The real Lockhart walked around the desk lighting candles while Dumbledore set Mrs. Norris on the it and began to examine here. Harish and the twins looked at each other briefly before sinking into desks out of the candle light.

Harish sat rather awkwardly and watched as Dumbledore bent over the cat. He had never been this close to the headmaster before, and it made him feel nervous that the old man would find things out about him that he shouldn't. Like the fact the he really was the heir of Slytherin, even if he didn't put up the message. Or the fact that he was the Dark Lord's son. At these thoughts, Harish strengthened his mental barriers and was careful not to look at the headmaster's eyes.

All the while Dumbledore stood bent over Mrs. Norris, prodding her and waving his wand. McGonagall stooped over the cat as well, but wasn't as close as Dumbledore. She too prodded it with her wand. The silence was punctuated by wracking sobs as Filch bent over with his hands clutched to his face. Harish's eyes roamed over him. ( _'Pitiful_ ' he thought.) Lockhart stood in the background, muttering different things he had encountered that could've killed her, making Filch sob even harder. Snape stood at the back, his face half hidden in the shadows and he watched Harish closely. Harish made a mental note to not look into _his_ eyes either.

Finally Dumbledore stood up straight and said gravely, "She's not dead, Argus."

"Not dead?" Filch wheezed, peeking one eye through his fingers. "But why's she all—stiff and frozen?"

"She has been petrified," the headmaster replied.

"Ah!" Lockhart said. "I had thought so!"

"But how, I cannot say," Dumbledore finished.

"Ask him!" Filch screeched suddenly, pointing at Harish. "He did it!"

Having finally found his voice again, Harish snapped coldly, "Oh, not this again! How could a fourth year seriously petrify anything, cat or not?"

"He has a point, Argus," Dumbledore said. Harish's eyes snapped to him suspiciously. He wished he could melt into the wall, this was definitely out of his comfort zone.

"I do recall not seeing Mr. Blake at the end the feast," Snape said slowly.

Harish's mouth dropped open. "I was setting the fuse off for the fireworks! Put me under Veritaserum if you want! The twins can tell you too! We did the prank with the fireworks and I was supposed to set it off!"

"Why didn't you return after you did so?" McGonagall asked.

The teen thought quickly, knowing he couldn't tell them he had heard a voice.

"I didn't see the point in it. I had already eaten."

"That's why George and I went after him," Fred said.

"We were telling him how the prank went—"

"When we saw the message."

"Innocent until proven guilty," Dumbledore said finally. "She can be cured. Professor Sprout's Mandrakes can be used to make a potion that will restore her—"

Filch looked furious. "My cat had been petrified! I want to see some punishment!"

"Fine," Snape said. "Five points from Slytherin for disrupting the feast."

Filch opened and closed his mouth, trying to find something to say. After he couldn't find anything to say, he left the room angrily. The other teachers took that as their leave so the only people left in the room were Harish, the twins, and Dumbledore.

Harish stood up and made his way to the door. He halted when Dumbledore said, "Just a minute, Mr. Blake." The twins stopped too. "Mr. and Mr. Weasley, you can leave us. I assure you this will only take a moment."

So the twins left and Harish slowly turned around, strengthening his mental defences even more.

"I want to ask you if there is anything you want to tell me," Dumbledore said quietly. Harish could feel the old man's gaze boring into him. "Anything at all?"

Harish forced himself to look into the headmaster's eyes. "No, sir," and he left a slight swagger in his step to make himself seem more confident than he really was.

The twins were waiting outside the office on him. They started walking back towards the dungeons and Harish joined them.

"You do believe me, don't you?" he asked after a couple minutes of silence. "About hearing the voice?"

The two red heads nodded.

"Why would you make—"

"Something like that up?"

They continued on in silence and Harish went to sleep instantly, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and fears.

Like when the Ministry was broken into, the attack on Mrs. Norris was all anyone talked about for the next several days. Most everyone suspected that Harish really was behind it, as everyone knew he was going to become the next Dark Lord, but the girls in Hermione's year reckoned she did it because she was the last Black left.

Filch kept it fresh in everyone's minds by pacing the spot where she had been found, as though he thought the attacker might come back. Harish had seen him scrubbing the message on the wall with Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Mess Remover, but with no effect. The words still gleamed as brightly as ever on the stone. When Filch wasn't guarding the scene of the crime, he was skulking red-eyed through the corridors, lunging out at students and giving them detentions for things like "breathing too loudly" or "looking happy".

Ginny seemed very disturbed by Mrs. Norris's fate. According to the twins, she was scared rather easily and probably thought she was next. According to _Ron,_ she was a great cat lover. Harish had too much to worry about to pay too much attention to it.

The attack had a similar effect on Hermione. She normally spent a lot of time in the library, but now she practically lived there. Not even Harish could get her to respond.

After Defence Against the Dark Arts one day, Harish made his way to the library to research for antidote in Potions. He met Draco in the back, who was holding up his History of Magic essay.

"I don't believe it, I'm _still_ eight inches short…" he groaned, letting go of it and it rolled up. "Hermione had done four feet and her handwriting is _tiny_."

"Where is she?" Harish asked as he and the twins sat down at the table with the second year.

"Over there," Draco replied, pointing along the shelves. "Looking for another book. At this rate she'll read the entire library before Christmas."

"Shame," the twins sighed.

Hermione emerged between the bookshelves. She looked angry and at last she seemed ready to talk to them.

"All of the copies of _Hogwarts: A History_ have been checked out," she said, sitting down between Fred and Draco. "And there's a two-week waiting list. I _wish_ I hadn't left it at home, but it wouldn't fit in my trunk with all of the Lockhart books."

"Why are you looking for it?" Draco asked.

"The same reason everyone else is. To read up on the Chamber of Secrets."

"Oh!" Harish exclaimed. "Why didn't you ask?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"I know the legend of course!" Then he added more quietly, "How do you think I couldn't, with my father being who he is?"

"So what is the legend?" Hermione asked.

"The legend says that there was a dispute between Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor. Slytherin believed that the other founders should be more precise in who they let into their school. Gryffindor, however did not agree. So, according to legend, Slytherin created a Chamber that could be opened by his heir alone. It was said to be the home of a horrible monster. No such Chamber has been found of course."

"But it's open now?" Hermione asked.

"You said an imposter opened the Chamber before," Fred cut in.

"It was open before?" Hermione asked.

Draco nodded. "When my grandfather was in his sixth year."

"What did you mean by imposter?" George finished for his twin.

"You see," Harish replied. "I don't know! That's all I could get out of my father. He said 'imposter', but wouldn't specify who the imposter was."

"Why?" the other four asked.

Harish shrugged. "The only other clue I have to what could be behind this, is that during the summer my house elf told me that a diary was stolen from my father. He couldn't tell me what was so important about it, but from what I gathered, it's dangerous. Whoever stole it must be the one who opened the Chamber."

Harish and the twins left while Draco finished up his homework, Hermione trailed behind them slightly. They walked along the corridors, listening to others talk about the Chamber. As they walked passed, people turned and whispered to each other, staring at Harish. As he was used to it, he just ploughed on ahead. They turned a corner and found themselves at the end of the corridor where Mrs. Norris had been petrified. They stopped and looked. The only difference from Halloween was that the bracket where the cat had hung was empty and an empty chair that stood against the wall bearing the message.

"That's where Filch has been keeping guard," Fred muttered.

The twins looked at each other. The corridor was deserted.

"Can't hurt to have a poke around," George said, dropping his bag and looked at the floor for clues.

"Scorch marks!" he exclaimed. "Here—and here—"

"Come look at this!" Hermione said. "This is funny."

Harish and the twins walked over to join her by the window next to the message. About twenty spiders were scuttling up the wall and out the window. There was a long silvery thread that was dangling like a rope as though they had all climbed it in their hast to leave the castle.

"Have you ever seen spiders act like that?" Hermione asked. Harish shook his head.

"Do you remember the water that was here?" he asked. "Where did it come from? Someone has mopped it all up…"

"It was level with this door here," Fred said, reaching for the brass knocker, but he suddenly pulled his hand back.

"What's wrong with you?" Harish asked.

"That's the girl's bathroom."

"Oh, no one'll be in there. It's Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," Hermione said, pushing Fred aside and opening the door.

"Who?" all of the boys asked.

"Moaning Myrtle. She's the reason no one comes in here. It's really hard to have a pee with her wailing at you. She's always throwing temper tantrums and flooding the place."

"That explains the water, then," Harish said, following her into the bathroom.

They looked around and observed the chipped sinks and spotted mirrors. One of the stall doors had been blown off its hinges and the entire room was dim and depressing. Hermione put her finger to her lips and walked toward the end stall, the one with the destroyed door. When she reached it, she asked, "Hello, Myrtle. How are you?"

Harish and the twins went around to look. Moaning Myrtle was floating above the tank of the toilet, picking at a spot on her chin.

"This is a _girl's_ bathroom," she said, eyeing the three boys suspiciously. " _They're_ not girls."

"No," Hermione agreed. "I just wanted to show them how—uh—nice it is in here."

Harish shot her a look telling her he'd better do the story making.

"Did you see anything on Halloween?" Harish asked. "Anything odd? A cat _was_ petrified right outside your door."

"I wasn't paying attention," Myrtle said dramatically. "Peeves upset me so much I came in here and tried to kill myself. Then of course, I remembered that I'm—I'm—"

"Already dead?" the twins supplied helpfully.

Myrtle gave a wail and plunged headfirst into the toilet bowl.

"Great going, you three," Harish said.

"Honestly, that was almost cheerful for Myrtle," Hermione replied.

"Either way, you three are _terrible_ at interrogation."

"I'm sorry," the twins said sarcastically.

"We can't all have—"

"Dark Lords raising us."

"Come on," Hermione said leading them out through the door. She had just barely shut the door when Percy came spluttering up to them.

"That is a _girl's_ bathroom!" he gasped.

"We noticed," the twins replied.

"What were you—?"

"None of your business," the twins replied sticking their noses in the air and they left Percy behind, heading for the dungeons.

"Still wish we could find the Chamber and who did it already…" Draco muttered that night in the common room.

"Me too, Draco," Harish replied. "Me too…"

* * *

 **And sadly (and luckily) it's true. We cannot all have Dark Lords raising us. :)**

 **How will Draco do at his first game of the season? Would Dean willingly befriend Harish, or Ron? (because there is no between. It is either ONE or the OTHER...) How long do you think it will be before Dumbledore finds out more about Harish's past? R &R, and I might just keep updating! JK, I would update anyway buuuuut...**

 **~TTFN**


	38. Part 4: Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Chapter Seven: Enter Dean Thomas**

Harish woke early on the morning of the match. It was going to be Gryffindor verses Slytherin, but the team wasn't all that worried. With their brand-new brooms, to the opposing team all they could look like were seven green blurs, as the brooms were so fast.

Harish went down to breakfast and ate plenty of eggs and bacon. The twins scarfed down their food hungrily. Draco, however, merely picked at his plate. He was paler than usual.

"Eat something, Draco," Harish said, spooning cereal into his own mouth. "You need some protein."

"He's right, you know," Hermione added imperiously. "You'll need your strength to play well today."

"I'm not hungry," Draco muttered.

"Come on," Daphne said. "Eat _something_."

Draco pouted, but reluctantly served himself some plain cereal.

After breakfast, the team made their way down to the changing room after the others wished them good luck. The sky reflected Draco's mood with the threat of rain, but Harish's heart soared when Daphne told him he'd be great. The twins smirked. Egelbert sat safely on Hermione's shoulders while Harish was down on the field waiting to take off into the air. Madam Hooch's whistle was blown, the Quaffle was released, and the Slytherin team shot into the sky in a blur of green and silver. The Gryffindors rose up and coughed through the dust clouds they had kicked up.

Harish watched as they scored time and time again, but then he remembered he was supposed to be searching for the Snitch. He zoomed off around the stadium with his eyes peeled for the Snitch. It had started to rain and Harish could feel large, heavy drops of water fall on him, soaking through his hair and his robes. Hardly paying attention to the game now as he tried to see through all the rain, he had no idea what was going on until Lee Jordan shouted, "Slytherin lead, sixty points to zero—"

The Seeker's heart soared and he started looking for the tiny golden ball with a renewed vigour. Harish stopped, annoyed as Madam Hooch's whistle rang through the stadium, calling for a time out. Harish landed with a bump, mud splashing up on him and his ankles sunk into the now soft and squishy ground.

"What's going on?" Harish shouted to Flint.

"The Gryffindor team called a timeout."

"They haven't scored—"

"At all so far," the twins informed him.

The teen grinned and leaned around the others to glance at the Gryffindors, who were standing in a red huddle a little ways away. The others on his team turned as well and leered at them. Rain fell even harder and Harish spat water out of his mouth before pulling out his wand.

" _Impervious_ ," He said and he was no longer wet or shivering. The raindrops bounced straight off of him.

"Good idea," Flint grunted and the rest of the team copied him.

"Much better," the twins sighed.

Madam Hooch's whistle sounded again and Harish climbed onto his soaked broom and soared into the air. He flew higher and higher, keeping his eyes peeled for the tiny golden ball. Once he got to a height where he could see most of the stadium, but he could still see something as small of the Snitch, he stopped rising and began circling the stadium.

He watched Draco smirk at the new Gryffindor Seeker, and Harish's heart leapt into his mouth when he saw the Golden Snitch hovering by Draco's left ear. He leaned forward and put on a jet of speed so strong that his eyelids peeled back. The other Seeker had seen the Snitch too and was lunging for the youngest Malfoy. Harish was hot on his heels. Luckily the Snitch darted away fast enough to let Harish catch up with the Gryffindor.

As he drew level with the boy, he heard a crack and felt a searing pain in his arm. Someone on the opposite team had hit him with a black bludger. Clinging onto his broom with only his knees, Harish shoved the other boy off his broom through a haze of pain. He fell and landed with a thud, and Harish felt black nothingness closing in on him. He pushed back at it, determined to stay conscious long enough to win the match. The boy leaned forward, his hand outstretched and he felt his fingers close around cold metal.

He was still leaning over, and he slid forward, causing his broom to overturn and he fell off of it. He hit the mud, rolling and sliding several yards before he came to a stop. His arm was sticking out at a strange angle, full of pain. He grasped the Snitch tightly in the other. Distantly he heard George shout, "We won!" and the black closed in on him as he fainted.

Harish came to with rain falling on his face. The teen was still laying on the field, and someone was leaning over him. He saw a glitter of teeth.

"Oh, no, not you," he moaned.

"Doesn't know what he's saying," Lockhart said loudly to the crowd of Slytherins pressing around them. "Not to worry, Blake. I'm about to fix your arm."

"No!" Harish shouted, attempting to scramble backwards, but without his arm to push him, he fell back onto the ground with a flop. "I'll keep it like this, thanks…"

"Lie back, Harish," Lockhart said soothingly. "It's a simple charm I've perform countless times—"

"Why can't I go to the Hospital Wing?" Harish asked through clenched teeth.

"He really should, Professor," Hermione said.

The twins were standing under an umbrella with her. Fred leaned forward. "Great capture, Harish! Your best yet, I'd say—"

"Stand back," Lockhart said, rolling up his sleeves.

"No—don't—" Harish said weakly, but Lockhart was already twirling his wand. A second later it pointed straight at Harish's arm.

A strange and unpleasant sensation started at his shoulder and spread all the way down to his fingertips. It felt as though his arm was being deflated. He didn't dare look at what was happening. He had shut his eyes, his face turned away from his arm, but he could hear gasps all around him. His arm didn't really hurt anymore—nor did it really feel like an arm.

"Ah," Lockhart was saying. "Yes. Well that can sometimes happen. But the point is, the bones are no longer broken. That's the thing to bear in mind. So, Blake, you just toddle up to the Hospital Wing—ah, Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger, would you escort him?—and Madam Pomfrey will be able to—uh—tidy you up a bit."

As Harish was helped to his feet, he felt strangely lopsided. They passed a group of Gryffindors and there was a flash and a click of a Muggle camera. Taking a deep breath, he looked down at his right side. What he saw nearly made him throw up: Poking out of the end of his robes was what looked like a thick, flesh-coloured rubber glove. He tried to move his fingers. Nothing happened.

Lockhart hadn't mended Harish's bones. He had removed them.

He was so distracted by the fact that he had no bones in his arm, that he didn't try to get Draco to stop helping him. Vaguely, he wondered what his father would do when he found out that the incompetent teacher removed all of his bones in his right arm. The two second years led him straight to Madam Pomfrey, and boy she was not pleased.

"You should have come straight to me!" she raged, bustling him past the Gryffindor Seeker, who was lying on a bed out cold. She held up the limp remainder of his arm. "I can mend bones in a heart-beat—but growing them back—"

"You will be able to?" Draco asked for him, sounding worried.

"Oh, I'll be able to, certainly, but it will be painful," the matron replied grimly, throwing a pair of pyjamas to Harish. He caught them clumsily in his left arm, realising that he still held the Golden Snitch. "You'll have to stay the night…"

Hermione waited outside the curtain while Draco helped Harish get on the pyjamas, much to the older boy's annoyance. It was just impossible to pull on a button down shirt with only one hand. It took a while to the rubbery, boneless arm stuffed into a sleeve, even with three hands trying to force it in.

Once he had gotten fully clothed, the twins came into the infirmary right as Hermione and Madam Pomfrey came around the curtain. Madam Pomfrey was carrying a bottle labelled _Skele-Gro_.

"You're in for a rough night," she said, pouring out a beakerful and handing it to him. "Regrowing bones is a nasty business."

Harish coughed and spluttered at the potion went searing painfully down his throat. Still tut-tutting about dangerous sports and inept teachers, she bustled off to tend to the Gryffindor lying opposite him. The twins helped Harish gulp down some water.

"We won, though!" Draco said eagerly. "That was some catch you made! I didn't realise the Snitch was there, of course, or I would've kept the other Seeker from going at it."

The door to the Hospital Wing burst open and the rest of the Slytherin team arrived to congratulate him.

"Unbelievable flying, Harish," the Keeper, Marius Bletchley, said with a grin.

Flint grunted in approval.

They had brought cakes, sweets, and bottles of pumpkin juice. They gathered around the foot of Harish's bed and were just getting started on what looked like a great party, when Madam Pomfrey came storming over, shouting, "This boy has thirty-three bones to regrow! He need's rest! Out! OUT!"

And Harish was left alone, with nothing to distract him from the stabbing pains in his limp arm. With nothing better to do, he resigned to sleeping.

Hours later Harish woke up. His arm was now stinging so hard it felt like it was full of splinters. At first he thought this was what woke him, then he could hear footsteps and light spilled into the otherwise dark infirmary as the door opened. Harish opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but the Gryffindor across from him raised a finger to his lips.

Normally Harish would've gotten angry at someone telling him to be quiet, but at that moment, Dumbledore back into the Hospital Wing, wearing a long nightgown and carrying what looked like one end of a statue. Professor McGonagall appeared seconds later holding its feet. Together, they heaved it onto a bed.

"Get Madam Pomfrey," Dumbledore whispered, and McGonagall hurried past Harish's bed and out of sight. Both boys lay perfectly still, pretending to be asleep.

Harish could hear urgent voices, and then McGonagall swept back into view, closely followed by Madam Pomfrey, who was pulling a sweater on over her nightdress. He heard a sharp intake of breath.

"What happened?" Madam Pomfrey whispered to Dumbledore, bending over the statue on the bed.

"Another attack," Dumbledore replied. "Minerva found him on the stairs."

"There was a bunch of grapes next to him," Professor McGonagall said. "We think he was trying to sneak up here to visit Mr. Thomas."

The boy opposite Harish—mostly likely 'Mr. Thomas'—let out a gasp and looked at the statue with guilt. Harish raised himself slightly to see a tiny first year lying on the bed. A ray of moonlight lay across its staring face.

It was the boy from earlier who had been taking pictures of Harish's arm. His eyes were wide and his hands were stuck up in front of him, holding his camera.

"Petrified?" the kindly matron asked.

"Yes," McGonagall replied. "but I shudder to think…If Albus hadn't been on his way downstairs for hot chocolate—who knows what might have—"

The three of them stared down at the boy. Then Dumbledore leaned forward and wrenched the camera out of the Gryffindor's rigid grip.

"You don't think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?" Professor McGonagall asked eagerly.

Dumbledore didn't reply. He opened the back of the camera.

"Good gracious!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed.

A jet of steam hissed out of the Muggle device. Harish, three beds away, caught the bitter smell of burning plastic.

"Melted," Madam Pomfrey said wonderingly. "All melted…"

"What does this mean, Albus?" McGonagall whispered urgently.

"It means," Dumbledore answered, "that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again."

Madam Pomfrey clapped a hand to her mouth. Professor McGonagall stared at him.

"But, Albus…surely… _who?_ "

"The question is not _who_ ," Dumbledore said, staring down at the tiny, petrified boy. "The question is _how_ …"

Harish was confused. Did that mean that he already knew who was behind this? Or did he suspect that Harish was behind it as well? The boy couldn't help but think that Dumbledore must think that Voldemort opened the Chamber.

Madam Pomfrey set up curtains around the bed and the three of the headed back to their different rooms to return to sleep. As soon as they were alone, the two boys looked at each other. Harish saw that he looked about Draco's age. The boy asked Harish, "Who are you?"

"Harish Blake. Who are _you_?" Harish asked in reply.

"Dean Thomas."

There was an awkward pause. The boy looked awful familiar. "I'm sorry for knocking you off your broom."

Dean looked surprised. "Well you _had_ just gotten your arm broken," he reasoned pleasantly.

"Do you know him?" Harish asked, jerking his head toward the curtains around the third boy's bed.

"Yeah, he's in my house. His name is Colin Creevey," Dean replied. "I was rather fond of him."

"It's not really your fault, you know," Harish said.

Dean sighed. "I know…Who do you think is doing these attacks?"

Harish shrugged. Then, he froze before muttering. "…I have a hunch—" then he sat up and called out, "Dobby!"

Dean jumped as Dobby appeared with a crack.

"Young Master Harish!" Dobby squeaked, bowing low. "I's heard about the attacks here at the school! Master was even more furious! The diary still hasn't been found…" he added, tugging nervously at his ears.

"About the diary," Harish said. "Can you tell me if you know if it's behind these attacks?" Dobby opened his mouth and then shook his head furiously. Harish then asked angrily, "Is there _anything_ you can tell me about it?"

Dobby thought a minute. "Master needs it."

"I know that, but _why_?"

"It's dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Dean asked from opposite him. "Diary? What are you talking about."

Harish motioned for him to be silent and the boy did so.

Then Dobby leaned forward and said, "Last time the Chamber was opened, the diary—" and he promptly began banging his head on the ground.

"Dobby!" Harish exclaimed out of surprise. "Stop!"

"Thank you, sir," Dobby whispered, eyes streaming down his long nose.

"You are dismissed," he finally said when he realized he would get no more out of the house elf.

"What was _that_ all about?" Dean asked.

Both of them were too wide awake to return to sleep any time soon, and Harish could tell that they would know each other pretty well by the time the night ended. He was about to answer when he finally realized who the boy looked like. Other than the dark skin, he looked almost just like Rabastan Lestrange.

* * *

 **Betcha you weren't expecting that! R &R to find out:**

 **What is going on with the Chamber of Secrets? How long will it take Harish to figure it out? When will Dean learn what Harish knows?**

 **~TTFN**


	39. Part 4: Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...**

* * *

 **Chapter Eight: Disastrous Duelling**

Harish awoke the next morning to bright sunlight streaming in through the windows and his arm was properly reboned, though very stiff. He sat up quickly and looked at the bed across from him. Dean had already left. The teen leaned back against his pillows.

The previous night, he and the other boy asked each other questions. Harish finally gathered that Dean had grown up in the Muggle world and didn't know who his father was. All he said was that his father had left when he was really little and had never been seen again. Harish, in turn, told him that he had never known who his mother was, but he grew up with his father. He did mention that he knew that his eyes were the same shape as hers, though. The two boys had finally drifted off to sleep around the time when the sun was just beginning to rise.

He figured that the boy had already woken and had been dismissed, when he saw the empty bed. Seeing that Harish was awake, Madam Pomfrey came bustling over with a breakfast tray and then began bending and stretching his arm and fingers.

"All in order," she said as he clumsily fed himself porridge let-handed. "When you're done eating, you may leave."

Harish nodded gratefully and slurped down the rest of his porridge as fast as possible. Then, he quickly got dressed and hurried off, eager to tell Fred and George what he had learned that night. He ran down to the dungeons and into the common room. There he saw the twins, Draco, Hermione, and Daphne waiting on him to return.

"How's your arm?" Daphne asked, faint pink streaked along her pale cheeks again.

"Fine," he said. "But that's not that important—" and he explained about the second attack. To his annoyance, none of them looked surprised.

"We know," the twins said together.

"I overheard Professor McGonagall telling Professor Flitwick all about it," Hermione admitted.

"Oh," he said before he promptly informed them of his meeting Rabastan Lestrange's son and the conversation he held with Dobby.

"So it _was_ the diary that caused—"

"The Chamber to open before?"

Harish nodded. "That's my best guess anyway. And if the diary is what opened the Chamber before, then that is what must have opened it this time…I wonder what the monster could be."

"And how it's getting—"

"Around the school unnoticed."

"Maybe it can make itself invisible," Hermione said. "Or maybe it can disguise itself—pretend to be a suit of armour or something—I've read about Chameleon Ghouls—"

"You read too much, Hermione," Fred said with a yawn.

The news of Colin Creevey's attack spread through the entire school by Monday morning. The air was suddenly thick with rumour and suspicion. The first years were now moving in tightly knit groups, as though they were frightened they would be attacked if they ventured forth alone, and everywhere he turned, Harish saw people staring at him suspiciously.

Ginny, who sat next to Creevey in Potions, seemed distraught at the fact that someone that sat so near her in one of her classes had been attacked. Fred and George had taken to covering themselves in boils of feathers and jumping out from behind statues to try to cheer her up until Percy threatened to write Mrs. Weasley that they were giving her nightmares.

Also, hidden from the teachers, a popular trade of talismans, amulets, and other protective charms was sweeping the school. Neville had bought a large, horrible smelling green onion, a pointed purple crystal, and a rotting newt tail before the other Gryffindor boys could point out that he was pureblood, and therefore most likely not to be attacked.

In the first couple of weeks of December Professor McGonagall came around as usual, collecting names of those who were going to be staying over the holidays. With Slytherins monster running amok the castle, there were few people that had signed up this year.

Most likely because the diary still hadn't been found, Harish had been told not to come home for the holidays once again. Draco also had to stay at the castle as well, for his father was going to be busy through Christmas as well. So the two of them signed up to stay, causing the twins and Hermione to do so also.

A couple weeks after that, Harish and the twins were walking across the Great Hall when they saw a group of people gathered around the notice board, reading a piece of parchment which had just been hung up. Dean, who had been rather friendly to Harish ever since their stay in the Hospital Wing together, waved them over.

"They're starting a Dueling Club!" he informed him excitedly, pointing at the parchment. "First meeting tonight!"

"I wouldn't mind dueling lessons," a sandy haired boy who was standing beside him said. "They might come in handy these days…"

"What, you reckon Slytherin's monster can duel?" Ron asked.

"Maybe not the monster, but what about the heir himself?" Harish asked coolly.

Ron started and watched the older boy suspiciously.

Harish walked away with the twins, heading into dinner. "It _could_ be useful," he said to them. "We should go."

So at eight o' clock that evening, they went back to the Great Hall along with Draco and Hermione. The long dining tables had disappeared and were replaced by a large golden stage that sat along one wall. The ceiling was velvety black, matching the sky above, and most of the school seemed to be packed beneath it. All of them were carrying their wands and looking excited.

"I wonder who will be teaching us," Hermione said as they edged into the chattering crowd. "Someone told me that Flitwick was a dueling champion when he was young—maybe it'll be him."

"As long as it is not—" Harish began, but he ended with a groan as Lockhart swept onto the stage in deep plum robes, accompanied by Professor Snape.

Lockhart waved an arm around for silence and called, "Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent! Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club in the light of recent events. Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape!" Lockhart flashed a wide smile. "He tells me he know a tiny bit about defensive spells and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, don't you youngsters worry—you'll still have your Potions Master when I'm through with him!"

Snape's upper lip was curling. Lockhart didn't seem to notice, for he was still smiling like an idiot.

"How much do you want to bet that Snape kills Lockhart within five minutes?" Harish asked the twins quietly.

"Ten galleons," George whispered back. Every Slytherin nearby them grinned.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much flourishing of his hands. Snape's bow was more of an irritable jerk of his head. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted defensive combat position," Lockhart told the now silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."

"I would not bet on that," Draco said as Snape bared his teeth, earning them more snickers.

"One—two—three—"

Both of them raised their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent.

"Wait for it…" Harish whispered.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Snape cried. The spell was so strong that it left a sparkling red spell trail. It flew straight at Lockhart and he was thrown off his feet, into the wall, and he slid down it onto the floor.

All of the Slytherins in their area cheered.

"Thank you," George said as Harish handed him ten galleons with a sour look on his face. The whole Dueling Club would most likely be a complete waste of time, but Harish thought it was worth it just to see Lockhart publicly humiliated. He was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his hair was standing on end.

"Do you think he's all right?" Hermione asked.

"Who cares?" Harish and Draco answered together. Apparently twin-speak was contagious.

"Well there you have it!" he said, tottering back up on the stage. "That was a Disarming Charm—as you see, I've lost my wand—an, thank you Miss Brown—yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind me saying so, it was pretty obvious that you were about to cast it. If I had wanted to stop you, it would've been too easy—however, I felt it would have been instructive to let them see…"

Snape was looking murderous. Perhaps Lockhart had finally noticed, for he said, "Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me—"

They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Lockhart paired Neville with Justin Finch-Fletchley, but Snape reached Ron first, pairing him with Draco. Harish couldn't quite tell which boy was more annoyed at this. Hermione was paired with Millicent Bulstrode, and Daphne was paired against Pansy Parkinson. Then Snape reached Harish with a nasty smile. Ever since Halloween, he had been trying to catch Harish off his guard and get him to do something to show that he may be Slytherin's heir.

"McLaggen!" he said. A burly Gryffindor came over. He had always been one of the Gryffindors that openly disdained Slytherins. "I want you to work with Mr. Blake."

Harish and McLaggen eyed each other with contempt.

"Face your partners!" Lockhart called, on the platform again. "And bow!"

Harish and McLaggen barely declined their heads.

"Wands at the ready!" Lockhart shouted. "When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents— _only_ to disarm them—we don't want any accidents—one…two…three—"

Harish, who had already started on his spell at "two", pointed his wand at his opponent and McLaggen staggered backwards.

Wasting no time, McLaggen shouted, "Rictusempra!"

A jet of silver light came flying at the Slytherin, but he easily deflected it.

"I said _disarm only!_ " Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the battling crowd.

Harish cast a Tickling Charm so strong on McLaggen, that he fell to his knees, hardly able to breathe for he was laughing so hard. Harish paused for a moment and then called, " _Tantellegra_!"

McLaggen shot upright and his legs began spinning all around him in some sort of jig.

"Stop! Stop!" Lockhart screamed, but Snape took charge.

" _Finite Incantatem!"_ he shouted; McLaggen's feet stopped spinning and both boys looked up at the professor.

A haze of greenish smoke surrounded the centre of the room. Both Neville and Justin were lying on the floor, panting; Ron was in a full body bind with Draco standing over him; and Hermione and Millicent were facing each other, Millicent's wand had shot somewhere off into the distance. Nearby the twins had been holding a friendly battle, Daphne had stunned Pansy, and Dean was holding off his own opponent.

"Dear, dear," Lockhart said, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of everyone's duels. "Up you go, Macmillan…Careful there, Miss Fawcett…Pinch it hard, it'll stop bleeding in a second, Boot." He paused a moment before saying, "I think I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells," Lockhart said, standing flustered in the middle of the hall. He glanced at Snape, whose eyes were glinting, and looked away quickly. "Let's have a volunteer pair—Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you—"

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," Snape intervened. "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest of spells. We would be sending Finch-Fletchley to the hospital in a match box." Neville's face turned pink. "How about—Vaisey and Blake?"

The boy Harish recognized as the one that had confronted him and ended up in the Hospital Wing two years ago walked up. He should be a seventh year now. He looked at Snape who still had that nasty smile.

"Excellent idea!" Lockhart exclaimed, gesturing Harish and Vaisey into the middle of the hall as the crowd backed away to give them room.

Vaisey looked slightly nervous, but Snape leaned over and whispered something in his ear that caused him to regain his cool.

"Now, Harish," Lockhart said to him. "When Vaisey points his wand at you, you do this."

His raised his own wand, attempted a complicated wiggle action, and dropped it.

"You mean this?" Harish asked, silently casting a Shield Charm.

Lockhart looked flustered from being beaten by a fourth-year performing wordless magic. "Yes, that's what I meant. My wand is a little over excited."

Harish smirked. "Whatever you say," he muttered under his breath.

But Lockhart didn't hear. "Three—two—one—go!" he shouted.

Vaisey raised his wand quickly and bellowed, " _Serpensortia!_ "

The end of his wand exploded and a long black snake shot out of it. There were screams as the crowd backed away quickly, clearing the floor.

"Don't move, Blake," Snape said lazily. "I'll get rid of it…"

"Allow me!" Lockhart shouted. His wand let off a bang and the snake went flying into the air. It landed back onto the floor with a thud. Enraged, it shot at Harish.

Not thinking as the snake reared to strike his face, he cried, _"Stop!"_

The snake froze, along with everyone else in the hall. He looked around and realized he had spoken in parseltongue. The snake swung its head around, finally stopping to look at Finch-Fletchley. The boy stepped back and paled. He looked at Harish with a terrified expression. Snape was looking at the fourth-year with a look of triumph.

Gotten over his shock, he backed out of the hall and his gang followed him.

"You never told me you were a parselmouth!" Daphne exclaimed once they had gotten back to the common room. She and Hermione were the only ones who were surprised by this turn of events.

Harish ran a hand through the back of his hair nervously. Now everyone in the school would know he was the heir.

"It might have slipped my mind," he replied.

The next morning snow lay over the grounds so thick that Care of Magical Creatures had been cancelled. With nothing better to do, he decided to go to the library and do some more research on the Chamber. When he reached the back of the library, he heard a heated conversation coming from a group of Hufflepuffs.

"So anyway, I told Justin to hide up in our dormitory," a stout boy was saying. Harish figured that Justin was the boy the snake had looked at before he left. "I mean to say, if Blake's marked him as his next victim, it's best if he keeps a low profile for a while. Of course, Justin's been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip that he was a Muggle-born. He said he saw Blake pass them after he said so, apparently he had Care of Magical Creatures. That's not the kind of thing you blab about in the middle of a field with Slytherin's heir on the loose is it?"

"You definitely think it was Blake then, Ernie?" a girl with blonde pigtails asked.

"Hannah," the Ernie kid said solemnly. "He's a parselmouth. Everyone knows that that's the mark of a dark wizard. Have you ever heard of a decent one? They even called Slytherin himself Serpent-Tongue." There was a lot of murmuring at this. Ernie went on, "Remember what was written on the wall? _Enemies of the Heir Beware_? Blake had some sort of run-in with Filch, next thing we know his cats been petrified. That first year, Creevey, was annoying him at the Quidditch match, taking pictures of his arm. Next thing we know—Creevey's been attacked—"

Harish had had enough. But before he could step out and give them a piece of his mind, a dark boy emerged from a different set of shelves. Apparently he had been listening too.

"I'll have you know that Harish couldn't have petrified Colin Creevey," Dean said. "He was in the infirmary asleep. I should know, he was in the bed across from me."

"You're sticking up for him?" Ernie asked, puffing up angrily. "Even after he shoved you off your broom?"

"He was in pain! His arm had just been broken!"

"How do you _know_ he isn't the heir?" Ernie asked. "He could've had an accomplice."

"I just do," Dean replied. "I can feel that he didn't petrify anyone."

"You can _feel_ it? What sort of excuse is that? You know what I think? I think that you're working with him!"

Harish finally emerged from the shelves and all of the Hufflepuffs cowered. Dean looked surprised and slightly embarrassed at being caught defending him.

"Hello," he said as coldly as possible. "I'm looking for Justin Finch-Fletchley."

"Wh-wha-what do you want with him?"

Harish tried not to grin. They all looked too comical.

"None of your business," he said, sticking his nose in the air. He shot a wink in Dean's direction to let him know he was pulling their legs.

"I'll have you know that you can trace my family back through generations of witches and warlocks and my blood's as pure as anyone's so—"

"I don't care about your blood," he snarled, finally dropping his act. "Didn't you notice that snake was coming at me?"

"And then you sent it after Justin."

"It _looked_ at Justin. It didn't even move toward him!"

And he turned on his heel and walked straight out of the library. He vaguely noticed that Dean was following him. Harish wasn't concentrating on where he was going, but more of who the imposter could be. Because of that, he walked straight into something big and hairy, then getting hit as Dean walked into him.

"Why aren't yeh two in class?" Hagrid, the giant gamekeeper, asked.

"Cancelled," both boys replied.

"The greenhouses were snowed in. What're you doing here?" Dean asked.

The giant held up a limp rooster.

"Second one killed this term," he said.

Harish was suddenly interested. This couldn't be a coincidence.

"Do you know what killed them?" he asked suddenly.

Hagrid looked down at him. "Don' I chase yeh away ferm the forest all the time?"

"Answer my question!" Harish said angrily. Hagrid looked taken aback.

"I think it's either foxes or a Blood-Suckin' Bugbear, an' I need the headmaster's permission ter put a charm around the—"

But Harish started off again, determined to reach the Slytherin common room to inform the others. Dean apologized quickly before running after Harish.

"What's going on?" he asked, catching up with the other boy.

"Go away," Harish snapped. "You can't follow me into my common room."

"But I stood up for you back there!" he called. Harish came to a halt. He turned to look at Dean, who was thinking fast. "This is the second time you haven't told me and I know you know what's going on! If you don't tell me, I'll go back and tell those Hufflepuffs that I just remembered that I had fallen asleep around the time of the attack."

Harish, instead of growing angry, actually smiled. "You really should be in Slytherin," he said to the boy earning a grin.

"So…?" Dean prompted him.

"All right," Harish sighed. "I'll tell you, but not here. Meet me outside the Slytherin common room tonight at midnight. And take this." He tossed the boy his Invisibility Cloak. "That will keep you from getting caught."

The two of them walked up a set of stairs and turned into another corridor, which was dark. The torches had been extinguished by the strong, icy draft the was blowing through a loos windowpane. They were halfway down the passage when Dean tripped over something. Harish helped him up and nudged what he tripped over with his foot.

"What is this?" he asked. The sun came from behind the clouds enough to light the corridor slightly.

Both boys gasped when they found themselves looking down into the staring face of Justin Finch-Fletchley. Just beyond him was the Gryffindor ghost, floating horizontally with his head hanging off his neck. He was no longer pearly and white, but was black and smoky. Both of them wore an identical shocked expression.

Harish looked wildly up and down the corridors for clues. Whatever the monster was, it left no trace. The only clue were spiders scuttling through the open window pane. As Harish puzzled over this, Dean stepped forward, looking at the ghost.

"Nick?" he asked. He turned to Harish looking confused. "What's powerful enough to petrify a ghost?"

Harish shrugged.

There was a bang and a door to their right burst open. Peeves, the poltergeist, came floating through, spinning in circles.

"What's Blake up to? Why's he lurking—" he cut off midcircle as he caught sight of Justin. He flipped right way up, filled his lungs, and screamed, "ATTACK! ATAA—"

Harish cast a spell that made him fall silent. Peeves clutched at his throat and zoomed away.

"Run!" he shouted and he and Dean ran as fast as they could away from the scene of the crime. Harish knew one thing for certain—he was done with being caught at the wrong place in the wrong time.

They heard repeated crashes as doors slammed open. Panting, they finally came to a halt when they could no longer hear what was going on in the corridor.

"That was a close one," Dean panted.

Harish nodded and gulped some air down. "I'll see you tonight," he said, before heading off to inform the others what happened.

* * *

 **Now I know what you will all ask me-Why is Harish even bothering with this kid? The answer is, Harish sees potential in him (and honestly doesn't want him bugging him for answers all the time).**

 **While we are on the subject, what sort of answers will Dean get? Why do you think Snape had Vaisey conjure a snake? Do you think Ron will be up to causing more trouble?**

 **R &R!**

 **~TTFN**


	40. Part 4: Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Nine: Answers**

That night Dean snuck out of Gryffindor tower at a quarter to eleven. He had no idea where the Slytherin common room actually was, so he had no idea how long it would take him to find it. All he knew was that it was in the dungeons. He put on Harish's Invisibility Cloak, taking a moment to admire the thought of being invisible, before setting off down the corridor. He made it to the dungeons and wandered around a bit before he spotted Harish, who luckily had thought of waiting outside for him.

Dean pulled the cloak off of his head. "Harish!" he exclaimed.

"Let me under," Harish whispered.

Harish got under the cloak as well and then he guided Dean deeper into the castle.

"Where are we going?" Dean whispered.

"Somewhere where no one will overhear us," Harish replied.

"Why all this secrecy?" Dean asked, but the other boy hushed him as they came to a stop at a door. "Hang on, that door wasn't there before!" he exclaimed.

"I know," Harish replied, opening the door and ushering him inside. Once there, he tucked the cloak into his pocket. "This room is only here when someone needs it. It's called the Room of Requirement. I discovered it quite recently by mistake."

Dean nodded.

"So I guess I have some explaining to do?" Harish asked, sitting down in a chair that had just appeared. Dean sat in the other one, nodding. "I shall start by saying that anything that will told you here, you must never repeat to _anyone_. Note that if you agree, you are making a magical contract with me." The younger boy nodded and some sort of magic in the room glowed around the two of them, making a contract. "I am the heir of Slytherin."

Dean looked shocked. "So you—you were the one who—but _how_? I was with you the whole time! Both times!"

"You misunderstood me," Harish replied calmly. "I am Slytherin's heir, but I did not cause _any_ of the attacks. My grandmother, Merope Gaunt, was descended straight from Salazar Slytherin himself. This summer, my father started freaking out because some _diary_ of his was stolen. I am sure you remember Dobby mentioning a diary in the Hospital Wing?"

Dean nodded.

"That was it. Apparently it was behind the previous opening of the Chamber, therefore the opening of it this time. I have no idea what the monster is and who planted the diary at the school, but I am trying to find where the Chamber is."

"So you're trying to find it?" Dean asked.

Harish nodded. "I also have one more thing. In exchange for the trust that you will _not_ tell anyone that I really am the heir, I will help you find your father."

Dean, who had been surprised a lot in the past few minutes, looked even more shocked if possible. "You know who my father is?"

Harish nodded. "And I will tell you once I have found the Chamber without interference."

Before he went to bed that night, Harish wrote a letter to his father, asking about the diary. He figured he would need to know more about it if he was to find it or the Chamber. Over the next week or so, he waited for a reply, but didn't receive one. He still hadn't gotten a reply by Christmas. Valentine's Day passed horribly, but with no letter still.

Finally, one morning, Augustus flew in with the other owls to deliver post, and he dropped and envelope in his lap. The twins looked at him questionably, but Harish decided that he would need to open it that night in the privacy of the common room.

So, he went to his classes as usual. After Transfiguration, however, he stopped short at the sound of Filch's wheezy voice. The twins stopped alongside him.

"Wait up for me in the common room," he told them and they walked off, leaving him alone.

"—even more work for me! Mopping all night, like I haven't got enough to do! No, this is the final straw, I'm going to Dumbledore—"

His footsteps receded along out of earshot and the boy heard a distant slam. He poked his head around the corner to see that he was once again at the corridor where Mrs. Norris had been attacked. He saw at a glance what Filch had been shouting at. There was a huge puddle of water stretching from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom to halfway down the corridor, and it looked as though it was still seeping out from under the door. Myrtle's wails echoed off of the bathroom walls.

" _Now_ what's wrong with her?" he muttered to no one in particular, picking up his robes and walking through the puddle to the door.

Ignoring the _Out of Order_ sign, he opened the door and walked into the bathroom. Moaning Myrtle was crying, if possible, harder than ever. It sounded as if she was hiding down in her usual toilet. The bathroom was dark because all of the candles had been extinguished by the water that had left the walls and floor soaked.

"Why are you crying again Myrtle?" he asked irritably.

"Who's that?" she glugged miserably. "Come to throw something else at me?"

"Why would I throw something at you?" he asked out of curiosity. He waded to her stall as she emerged from her toilet, splashing even more water everywhere.

"Don't ask me," Myrtle shouted. "Here I am, minding my business, when someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me."

"Well, who threw it at you?"

"I don't know…I was sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death, when it fell through the top of my head," she nodded and whispered pathetically. "It's over there, it got washed out…"

Harish looked under the sink where Myrtle was pointing to see a small, black book sitting there. It's cover was shabby and it was as wet as everything else in the bathroom. When he picked it up, however, it was completely dry. He opened the book and one the first page where the words "T.M. Riddle" in smudged ink. Harish peeled the pages apart and flipped through them. There wasn't a single trace of any writing on a single one. The teen turned back to the first page before realizing that T.M. Riddle was his father, Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Harish had found the diary! Letter forgotten, he ran straight to the common room. Ginny spotted him and her eyes darted from him to the diary.

"Where are you going?" she asked, looking pale.

"Out of my way!" he exclaimed hurriedly and ran to his dormitory, with the book still clutched in his hand, and pulled the curtains around his bed. He pulled a quill and some ink out of his trunk and dropped it onto the page. Like he had expected, the ink was sucked into the page. After thinking for a moment, Harish wrote, "My name is Harish Blake."

The words shone on the page for a moment before disappearing. Then, oozing out of the page, in his very own ink came words he hadn't written.

" _Hello Harish Blake. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?"_

Harish jumped, dropping the diary, and he scuttled backwards. Then, out of curiosity, he reopened the diary.

"Someone tried to flush it down the toilet," he finally wrote.

" _Lucky that I recorded my memories in some more lasting way than ink. But I always knew that there would be those who would not want this diary read."_

"What do you mean?" Harish asked it, his curiosity growing with every second. He could get the diary to tell how it had been opening the Chamber!

" _I mean that this diary holds memories of terrible things. Things that were covered up. Things that happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."_

"Can you tell me?" Harish wrote as quickly as possible.

" _No."_

Harish sat back, frustrated.

" _But I can show you_ ,"

Harish paused, wondering if he should listen to the diary at all. Whatever it was, it was dangerous. Really dangerous, since it scared even his father.

"OK," he finally wrote.

Then, the pages began blowing by, as though caught in a strong gust of wind. It stopped halfway through the month of June. Harish shut his mouth closed when he realized he had left it hanging open. The words _June thirtieth_ had turned into a little window. He put his eye to the window, trying to see if he could see through it, and then he found himself being lurched off of his bed and falling headfirst through the page and into a whirl of colour.

Harish felt his feet hit solid ground, and stood, shaking. He was definitely unnerved, having never experienced anything like a book talking to him, or throwing him headfirst into some memory. The blurred shapes around him suddenly came into focus, and he realized he knew where he was. He was in the castle, but now in the headmaster's office. Instead of Dumbledore sitting behind the desk, however, there was an elderly looking wizard sitting there. He had a few wisps of white hair and was reading a letter by candle light.

There was a knock on the door.

"Enter," the wizard said in a feeble voice.

A boy of about sixteen entered, taking off his pointed hat. A silver prefect's badge gleamed on his chest. He was taller than Harish, but not by much, and had the same pale, pointed face. Harish jumped and stared at the boy.

"Father?" he asked, for he was indeed staring at the sixteen-year-old version of his father, Tom Riddle.

Tom, didn't seem to hear Harish, but walked into the room.

"You wanted to see me Professor Dippet?" he asked, looking nervous.

"Sit down," Dippet replied. "I've just been reading your letter."

"Oh," Tom said, sitting down and gripping his hands together very tightly.

"My dear boy," Dippet said kindly. "I cannot possibly let you stay at school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays?"

"No," Tom said at once. "I'd much rather stay here at Hogwarts than go back to that—to that—"

"You live in a Muggle orphanage, I believe?" Dippet asked curiously.

Harish's eyes widened. Muggle orphanage?

"Yes, sir," Tome replied, his face turning a delicate shade of pink.

"You are Muggle-born?"

"Half-blood, sir," Tom corrected. "Witch mother, muggle father."

Harish's eyes widened even further. He had never known his grandfather was a Muggle. All he had known was that his grandmother was a descendant of Slytherin, and both had died before his father had come of age.

"And are both your parents—"

"My mother died just after I was born, sir. They told me at the orphanage that she name me Tom after my father and Marvolo after my grandfather."

Dippet clucked his tongue sympathetically.

"The thing is, Tom," he sighed. "special arrangements might have been made for you, but in the current circumstances…"

"You mean all these attacks, sir?" he asked and Harish began listening intently.

"Precisely," the headmaster replied. "My dear boy, you must see how foolish it would be to allow you to remain at the castle when term ends. Particularly in light of the recent tragedy…the death of that poor girl…You will be safer by far at your orphanage. As a matter of fact, the Ministry of Magic is even now talking of closing the school. We are no nearer at locating the—uh—source of all this unpleasantness…"

Tom's eyes widened.

"Sir—if the person was caught—if it all stopped—"

"What do you mean?" Dippet asked with a squeak in his voice. "Riddle, do you mean you know something about these attacks?"

"No, sir," Tom replied quickly.

Dippet sank back, looking disappointed.

"Very well, you may go, Tom…"

Tom slid off his chair and slouched out of the room. His son followed him. They went down a spiralling stair case and past a stone gargoyle. Tom stopped and so did Harish. Harish could tell that he was thinking pretty hard; his forehead was furrowed and he was biting his lip.

Then, as though he had come to a decision, he hurried off, Harish gliding noiselessly behind. They didn't see another person until they reached the entrance hall, when a tall wizard with a long red beard called to Harish's father from the staircase.

"What are you doing, wandering around this late, Tom?"

Harish gaped at the wizard, but shut his mouth again. It was none other than a fifty-years-younger Dumbledore.

"I had to see the headmaster, sir," Tom replied.

"Well hurry off to bed," Dumbledore said, giving Tom the exact persecuting stare that Harish had been subjected to numerous times. "Best not to roam the corridors these days. Not since…" he sighed and then looked up at the young Voldemort, asking him the very question that he had asked Harish on Halloween night. "Is there anything you wish to tell me, Tom? Anything at all?"

Tom stared at the old man before replying, "No sir."

Dumbledore nodded, bid the teen goodnight, and walked up the stairs. Once he was completely out of sight, Tom headed off to the dungeons, with Harsh close behind. He walked into the Potions dungeon. The torches hadn't been lit, so when he pushed the door almost closed, Harish could only just see him, standing frozen by the door, watching the passage outside.

They waited there ages until he heard something move beyond the door. Someone was creeping along the passage. Tom, quiet as a shadow, edged through the door and followed, Harish did so as well. They followed the footsteps for nearly five minutes until the young Voldemort stopped suddenly and inclined his head toward the direction of new noises, Harish heard a door creak open and then someone speaking in a hoarse whisper.

"C'mon….gotta get yeh outta here…C'mon now…in the box…"

Tome suddenly jumped around the corner and Harish stepped out after him. He could see the dark outline of a huge boy who was crouching in front on an open door, a very large box next to it.

"Evening Rubeus," Tom said sharply.

The boy slammed the door shut and stood up.

"What yer doin' down here Tom?"

Tom stepped closer.

"It's all over," he said. "I'm going to have to turn you in, Rubeus. They're talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don't stop soon."

"What d'yeh—"

"I don't think you meant to kill anyone, but monster don't make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for exercise and—"

"It never killed no one!" the large boy said, backing up against the door. From behind him, Harish could hear an odd clicking noise.

"Come on, Rubeus," Tom said moving even closer. "The dead girl's parents will be here tomorrow. The least we can do is to make sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered…"

"It wasn't him!" the boy roared, his voice echoing down the dark passage. "He wouldn't! He never!"

"Stand aside," Tom said, drawing out his wand.

He cast a spell that lit the corridor with a sudden, flaming light. The door behind the large boy flew open and a giant, hairy body came scuttling out. Riddle raised his wand again, but he was too late. The thing had scuttled up the corridor and out of sight. Tom scrambled after it, but the huge boy seized his wand, threw him back down, and shouted, "NOOOOO!"

The scene whirled and Harish felt himself falling. With a crash he landed spread eagle on his bed in the Slytherin dormitory, his father's diary lying open on his stomach. Harish sat up with a jolt. If what he had seen was true, then everything he had hypothesised was wrong. Then, he remembered the letter his father—his present father—had sent him. He scrambled off his bed and pulled it out of his book bag. Then, he climbed back on it and read the letter.

 _Dear Harish,_

 _I regret not telling you earlier. I know you were angry with my being so occupied over the summer. I guess I shall start with saying that on Christmas of my fourth year, I received a diary. Now being a fourteen-year-old boy I wanted to have nothing to do with a diary. I didn't want to be seen writing in it. But, later I decided I could use it in an experiment I had thought of._

 _I wanted to see if I could make an interactive diary. A diary where you could store your memories, then later access them by asking to see them once again. I put several spells into it and then my memories were inserted. I could access the memories, but I could not figure out how to make the diary interact with me. I spent all summer studying up on it._

 _Then, at the beginning of my fifth year I tried to use a ritual that would create a copy of myself inside the diary, but something went wrong. A demon possessed the process, I guess, but the project went haywire. A corporeal version of myself with red eyes emerged from the diary and opened the Chamber of Secrets._

 _It took me a while to figure out that it was actually the diary causing the attacks, but by the time I did, a girl had already been killed. I didn't want to be locked away for something I never did, so afraid for myself, I framed Hagrid for the attacks, went down to the Chamber, and locked the being away in the diary. I cast many spells on it to keep the being inside and then entrusted the diary to Abraxas Malfoy, telling him that the diary was dangerous and it needed to be locked away._

 _Early this year it was stolen. Now, if the Chamber of Secrets is open again, that means that the diary is on the loose. I am afraid that it will be up to you to find the Chamber and put a stop to these attacks. If you find the diary,_ _ **do not use it**_ _, but destroy it. It is_ _ **very**_ _dangerous, and under no circumstances is it to fall into Dumbledore's hands._

 _Good Luck,_

 _Your very concerned father._

The dormitory door opened that moment and the twins came inside. Harish ripped the curtains aside.

"There you are!" George exclaimed.

At seeing Harish's face, the twins then asked, "What's wrong?"

Harish held up the diary in one hand and the letter in the other. Then he shoved the letter into their hands. "I've figured it out."

* * *

 **Indeed, Harish has solved the mystery. But how long will it be before he can make it into the Chamber? Will there be another attack? Will Harish have to face Slytherin's monster? To find out, R &R!**

 **~TTFN**


	41. Part 4: Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Chapter Ten: Our Heroes Solve the Puzzle**

It was now nearly four months since the double attack. Harish was looking for the Chamber harder than ever. He was making horrible grades in all of his classes, but he didn't even care. Still, with all of his looking and researching, he was no closer to finding the Chamber as Mr. Weasley was at becoming the Minister of Magic. The only clue he had to go on was the diary, and that wasn't a lot.

Everyone seemed to think that the attacker had retired, but the inactivity put Harish on edge. In March, several of the Mandrakes threw a loud party in greenhouse three, making Professor Sprout very happy. The next day, Draco came to Harish telling him that the Mandrakes were almost mature.

Draco, Hermione, and Daphne couldn't help Harish look so much when they had to make the decision on what classes to take the next year. Harish had asked Dean how he decided what classes he was going to be taken, and the boy had informed him that he had picked whatever classes his wand had landed on, causing Harish to laugh his head off.

Slytherin's next Quidditch match was going to be against Hufflepuff. The team had practices every weekend as usual. The practices went really well and they were certainly growing drier as the temperatures increased. The evening before Saturday's match he had bounded into the common room, whistling, to drop his broom off in the dormitory.

But, his cheerful mood didn't last long when he entered their dormitory. The twins whistled to indicate their surprise as the three of them stepped inside. The contents of Harish's trunk had been thrown everywhere. His cloak lay ripped on the floor. The bedclothes had been pulled off of his four poster an the drawer had been pulled out of the bedside cabinet, the contents strewn all over the floor and the mattress.

Harish walked over to his bed, his expression stony, treading on a few loose pages of _Travels with Trolls_. As he pulled the blankets back onto his bed, the twins inspected the rest of the room.

"Whoever did this must have been looking for something," Harish said. "Frantically."

"And they found it," Fred said.

"Wha—"

"The diary is missing," George replied.

The next morning they woke to brilliant sunshine and a light, refreshing breeze.

"Perfect Quidditch conditions!" Draco remarked enthusiastically as he sat down for breakfast.

"Buck up Harish," Flint grunted. "You need to eat."

Harish, who had been looking up and down the table, looked at his plate and dug into the eggs and bacon. When he left the Great Hall with the twins and Hermione, another serious worry added to Harish's growing list. He had just set foot on the marble staircase when he heard, yet again—

" _Kill this time… let me rip…tear…"_

He shouted aloud causing the twins to jump.

"The voice!" he exclaimed, looking over his shoulder. "I just heard it again—didn't you?"

The twins shook their heads, wide-eyed. Hermione, however, clapped a hand to her forehead.

"Harish!" she said urgently. "I've just understood! I've got to go to the library!"

And she sprinted away, up the stairs.

Harish was still looking around, bewildered, trying to find the source of the voice. Then, he realized he was cutting it very close. He sprinted down the stairs, grabbed his broom, and rushed out to the changing room. His mind was still on the disembodied voice as he pulled on his emerald Quidditch robes, his only comfort was that everyone was outside to watch the match. So, no one could accuse him of anything.

The teams walked out onto the field to boisterous applause. Flint took off for a warm-up flight around the goal posts; Madam Hooch released the balls. The Hufflepuffs, who played in canary yellow, were standing in a huddle, having a last minute discussion of tactics.

Harish was just mounting his broom when Professor McGonagall came half marching, half running onto the field clutching a purple microphone. Harish's heart sank when she said through it, "This match has been cancelled!"

There were boos and shouts. Flint looked murderous and the Hufflepuff captain looked devastated. Harish slid back off of his broom and watched as Flint landed on the ground angrily.

"You can't cancel the match!"

McGonagall ignored him and continued to shout through the megaphone.

"All students are to make their way back to the House common rooms, where the Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!"

Then she lowered her megaphone and beckoned Harish over.

"Blake, I think you'd better come with me…"

Wondering how she could possibly think it was him this time, he followed. The twins and Draco slid off their brooms and followed as well, but to his surprise, the professor escorting them didn't object.

"Yes, perhaps you boys had better come too…"

Students were swarming out of the stadium and all around them. Some of them were grumbling and complaining about the match being cancelled, but the others looked around worriedly. The four boys followed Professor McGonagall back into the school and up the marble staircase. They weren't taken to anyone's office to be punished.

"This will be a bit of a shock," Professor McGonagall said in an uncharacteristically gentle voice as they approached the infirmary. "There has been another attack…Another _double_ attack."

Harish's insides did a somersault as he realized that he hadn't included Hermione in the "everyone" who was outside to watch the match. She must have still been in the library. Sure enough, lying on a bed next to a Ravenclaw girl, with her eyes wide and glassy, was Hermione.

"They were found near the library," Professor McGonagall explained. "Along with this." She held up a small round mirror. "Does it mean anything to you?"

All of the boys shook their heads.

"I will escort you back to the Slytherin common room. Then I must address the Gryffindors."

"All students must return to their House common rooms by six o' clock every evening. No student is to leave after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the restroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further Quidditch training practices or trials are postponed. There will be no more evening activities."

The Slytherins packed inside the common room listened as Professor Snape read off of his roll of parchment in silence. He rolled it up and added, "I am afraid that unless the culprit is caught, the school will likely be closed. If any of you know anything,"—he glanced pointedly at Harish—"About these attacks, please feel free to tell a Head of House.

He strode out of the room and the Slytherins started talking immediately.

"—so that's one from each house now. Whoever this is must not be a student, or surely one house would be spared—"

"—who was Petrified this time?"

"Hermione Granger."

"—she _lied_ to us! She's been a Muggle-born all along?"

"She has not," Harish said suddenly, cutting off the rest of the House's conversations.

"What?"

"She has not lied to you."

"Why do you say that? The Heir couldn't have attacked her if she was pureblood," Pansy Parkinson shot back.

"I think she was petrified by accident. She and the Ravenclaw that got petrified with her were the only students left in the castle. The monster most likely wanted out and happened across them." Then he began mulling everything over out loud. "They were found with a mirror, which means they must have been looking around corners with it…but why? Hermione didn't have a mirror…She must have figured out what the monster is! It must be some creature that can't be looked at directly! She must've gone to the first person she saw and asked if they had a mirror. Then they saw its reflection and were petrified!" he froze, practically vibrating with excitement. "I've got to go!" and he dashed out of the room.

He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see the twins running up to him. Egelbert was sitting atop Fred's shoulder.

"You heard Professor Snape!"

"We're not allowed to go anywhere—"

"Not without a teacher to escort us."

"This is too important," Harish said, dashing out of the dungeons and up a flight of stairs.

They flew out into the entrance hall.

"Where do you think you're going?" Professor McGonagall asked suddenly.

The three boys froze and turned to see her striding towards them.

"We—we want to see Hermione. We didn't really get to much earlier…"

"All right," Professor McGonagall said. "I'll go with you."

And she started leading them to the infirmary. When they got there, Professor McGonagall informed Madam Pomfrey they were there, before leaving them. Once they were alone, Harish dashed over to Hermione's bed.

"Why are we here?" the twins asked.

"To find some sort of clue," Harish said. "If she figured out what the monster was—oh!"

"What?" the twins asked.

"It's a _snake_! I don't know why I saw it before! Every time there's been an attack I hear a voice no one else hears. Why? Slytherin's monster is a _snake_! We need to search her pockets."

He began looking through her pockets, but there wasn't anything in them. Then he noticed that her hand was curled into a fist.

"What are you holding?" he muttered. He curled his fingers around hers and felt a piece of paper crumpled in her fist. He tried to tug it out, but he could hear the tearing of paper.

"Let me," Fred said. Harish nodded and backed away, letting Fred find the paper and then gently ease it out of Hermione's rigid grasp. It read:

 _Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, none are more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the king of serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are wondrous, for aside from its venomous and highly deadly fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk runs from only from the crowing of a rooster, which is fatal to it._

Beneath this, a single word had been written, in a hand Harish recognized as Hermione's. _Pipes_.

It was as though someone had clicked a light on in his brain. He could see where it all fit together.

"It's a Basilisk; a snake! It all fits!" Harish exclaimed, shoving the paper under Fred's nose. "It's stare is deadly, but no one's looked at it directly, so no one had died! Hermione had the mirror….Creevey saw through his camera…Finch-Fletchley saw it through Nearly Headless Nick. Nick got full blast of it, but he couldn't die _again_ …Mrs. Norris….Mrs. Norris saw its reflection in the water from Myrtle's bathroom! Spiders flee before it—the spiders were going out the window when Mrs. Norris and Justin were attacked. It runs from a rooster—Hagrid had said that three roosters had been killed. I _knew_ it wasn't a Blood-Sucking Bugbear!"

"But how's something this big—"

"Been getting around the school unnoticed?"

Harish looked at the word Hermione had scrawled at the bottom of the page. "Pipes… _Pipes!_ It's been getting around in the pipes!"

"But this still doesn't explain—"

"Where the Chamber _is_."

"The spider would know," Harish said, suddenly.

The twins both looked at Harish as if he had lost his mind.

" _The spider_?" they asked incredulously.

"The diary showed me a memory of my father framing Hagrid. He told them that the monster was Hagrid's pet spider. They believed it, of course, that thing was _huge_. Anyway, it escaped. The thing is, it was in the castle at the same time as the last time the Chamber opened. It could possibly know where the entrance is!" the twins shot him a look. "I know it's pretty farfetched, but currently it's all we've got."

They stood there looking at each other for a moment, enjoying the fact that they had solved the puzzle. Then, the twins broke the silence.

"Well, what're—"

"We waiting for?"

"Let's go," Harish said.

He pulled the cloak out of his bag and the three of them got beneath it. Then they dashed out of the Hospital Wing, back out into the entrance hall, and out of the building. They saw someone they didn't expect out there, walking out to Hagrid's cabin.

"Dumbledore?" the twins questioned loudly.

" _Shhh!_ " Harish exclaimed and then added in a whisper, "And the Minister. Hagrid was framed for the attacks, remember? So now that there's been another one, Dumbledore and Fudge have probably gone to talk to him.

"Ohh," they replied.

The three teens watched as Dumbledore and the Minister of Magic were let into Hagrid's hut. Then, out of curiosity, they crept up to a cracked window and watched.

"—very bad business," Fudge was saying. "Had to come. Four attacks on Muggle-borns. Things've gone far enough. Ministry's got to act."

"I never," Hagrid said. They saw his head turn to Dumbledore. "You know I never, Professor Dumbledore, sir—"

"I want it understood, Cornelius, that Hagrid has my full confidence," Dumbledore said to Fudge.

"Look, Albus," Fudge replied uncomfortably. "Hagrid's record's against him. Ministry's got to do something—the school governors have been in touch—"

"Yet again, Cornelius, I tell you that taking Hagrid away will not help matters in the slightest," Dumbledore said.

"Look at it from my point of view,:" Fudge said, fidgeting with his bowler. "I'm under a lot of pressure. Go to be seen doing something. If it turns out it wasn't Hagrid, he'll be back and no more said. But I've got to take him. Got to. Wouldn't be doing my duty—"

"Take me?" Hagrid croaked. "Take me where? Not Azkaban prison?"

Harish turned and saw a third person walking up to the hut. This one had platinum blonde hair.

"Uncle Lucius?" Harish gasped.

The twins clapped their hands over his mouth, but Malfoy Sr. simply knocked on the door. He was let in by Professor Dumbledore and Lucius strode into the hut. Fang started to growl.

"Already here, Fudge," he said approvingly. "Good, good…"

"What're yeh doin' here?" Hagrid asked loudly. "Get outta my house!"

"My dear man, please believe me I have no pleasure in being in your—uh—you call this a house?" he replied with a sneer. "I simply called at the school and was told that the headmaster was here."

"And what exactly did you want with me, Lucius?" Dumbledore asked politely.

" _Dreadful_ thing, Dumbledore," Lucius said lazily, handing over a roll of parchment, "but the governors fell it's time for you to step aside. This is an order of Suspension—you'll find that all twelve signatures are on it. I'm afraid we feel you're losing your touch. How many attacks have there been now? At this rate there'll be no more Muggle-born students left in Hogwarts, and we all know what a terrible loss that would be."

"Oh, now see here, Lucius," Fudge said, looking alarmed now. "Dumbledore suspended—no, no—last thing we want just now—"

"The appointment—or suspension—of the headmaster is a matter for the governors, Fudge," Mr. Malfoy replied smoothly. "And as Dumbledore has failed to stop these attacks—"

Harish, having heard enough tell that this was going to be an argument about whether Dumbledore should be removed, grabbed the twins and the three of them headed into the forest. Soon, Harish found a trail of spiders and he followed it. Harish cast a light with his wand and, following its light, they followed the steady trail of spiders. They walked along the path and the trees grew thicker and thicker around them as they continued walking. Then the spiders finally led them off the oath and into the dense foliage.

They followed them for what seemed ages until the trees began thinning again, and they found themselves in a giant hollow. Then, they could hear the sound of something enormous. They stood there, trying to catch a glimpse of what was making the noise until it finally came into sight, It was a spider the size of a small elephant. It had grey and black hairy legs and its pinchered head was milky white. It was blind.

"Hagrid? Is that you?' the ancient spider asked.

"We're friends of Hagrid," Harish replied.

"Hagrid has never sent men into our hollow before," the giant spider said thoughtfully.

"Hagrid's in danger," Harish said. "There have been attacks at school and everyone thinks it was him.

"But that was years ago," the spider replied. "Years and years ago. I remember it all well. That's why they made him leave the school. They believed I was the monster that dwells in the Chamber of Secrets. They thought that Hagrid had opened the Chamber and set me free."

"But they were wrong, weren't they?" Harish said.

"Yes. Hagrid did not do it, and I was not the monster. The only bit of the castle I ever saw was the cupboard in which Hagrid had kept me."

"So you never killed anyone," Harish finished for him.

"Never," the old spider replied. "The body of the girl was discovered in a bathroom."

Harish nodded. "That's all we needed, we'll just go now."

"Go?" the spider asked. "I think not. My family does not harm Hagrid on my command, but I cannot keep them from fresh meat when it wanders so willingly into our hollow.

More spiders were already advancing on them. Thinking quick, Harish cast a spell that cut off their legs. Then he and the twins ran as quick as possible. He clutched onto the cloak as tight as possible to keep from dropping it. They ran out of the forest and all the way up to the castle.

"So," Harish panted once they had gotten into their dormitory. "A girl died in a bathroom…what if she never left?"

"Moaning Myrtle?" the twins asked. Harish nodded.

"She must know where the entrance is. It could even be in her bathroom."

* * *

 **Now they know** _ **where**_ **the Chamber is, it's only a matter of going down there! Now only one question for this chapter: do you think the Clabbert will be useful again any time (this year or not...) soon?**

 **R &R**

 **~TTFN**


	42. Part 4: Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven: Into the Chamber of Secrets**

They wanted to go interrogate Myrtle that night, but it was too late. Over the next few weeks they couldn't figure out how to escape long enough to visit her bathroom. With the teacher escorting them everywhere, it was hard to slip away to the girls' bathroom. The girls' bathroom that was located in the corridor where Filch's cat had been attacked.

That wasn't the only thing. A week after Hagrid and Dumbledore had left, Professor McGonagall had made an announcement in class about their exams.

"We're still having exams?" the twins howled.

"Professor Dumbledore's wish was to continue life at school as normally as possible," McGonagall said. "This means taking end-of-year exams, and I'm sure I cannot stress how important they are as you have your OWL's coming up."

"But we won't be taking those for another year!" Harish exclaimed.

"And I hope you've been studying hard all year long."

Studying hard? Harish had been so focused on the Chamber that he had hardly been paying attention in class. What had he learned? That Clabberts are really cheeky? That was about it. He couldn't believe that after everything that had been happening that year, the teachers thought they had been studying. It was just absurd.

Three days before their first exam, McGonagall made another announcement at breakfast.

"I have some good news," she said. Instead of falling silent, the Great Hall was filled with commotion.

"Dumbledore's coming back!" several students yelled joyfully.

Harish did _not_ want Dumbledore to come back.

"You've caught the heir of Slytherin!" a Ravenclaw girl shouted.

And he certainly didn't think they could catch the heir, for the had no idea what it really was.

"Quidditch matches are back on!" Oliver Wood roared excitedly.

Harish snorted. Now that one was just silly.

Once the noise had subsided, McGonagall said, "Professor Sprout has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting at last. Tonight we will be able to revive those who had been petrified. I hardly need to tell you that one of them may be able to inform us who or what attacked them. I am hopeful that this dreadful year may end with catching our culprit."

The hall erupted with joyful noise. Harish cheered alongside the rest of them, as he wanted his Hermione back. The twins, Draco, and Daphne looked happy at this news as well. The rest of the house just looked triumphant that they would be getting their pureblood back.

"She'll go crazy when she learns that we have exams in only three days," Draco said, referring to Hermione. "It may just be kinder to leave her until they're over."

Harish chuckled.

Then, Ginny came over and sat down across from Harish. She was still pale and Harish noticed she was wringing her hands nervously. Harish thought it looked an awful like Dobby when he was on the edge of revealing important information.

"What do you want?" Harish asked her softly.

Ginny glanced up and down the table frightfully.

"I've got to tell you something," she mumbled.

"What is it?" Harish asked.

Ginny opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Harish leaned forward and spoke where only she could hear, "Is it about the Chamber of Secrets? Do you know where it is?"

She opened her mouth, but then her eyes flashed oddly and she shook her head.

"Are you sure?"

She shook her head again.

"What were you going to tell me?"

"Nothing," she mumbled quietly and she slid out of her seat and dashed out of the hall.

"I doubt it was actually 'nothing'," he said thoughtfully, sitting back.

Harish, though he knew that the people who were petrified would wake that evening, didn't want to pass up a chance to interrogate Myrtle. Though they may have known who their attacker was, the only victim that could probably tell them where the Chamber was, was Mrs. Norris and she couldn't talk. Luckily, the perfect chance came up when Lockhart was escorting them to Transfiguration.

Lockhart, who had told them that all of the danger had passed, only to be proved wrong right away, was now whole heartedly convinced that it was hardly worth the trouble seeing them down the corridors. His hair wasn't as sleek as usual; he had most likely been up all night doing patrols.

"Mark my words," he said, ushering them around a corner. "The first thing out of those poor petrified people's mouths will be _'It was Hagrid'_. Frankly, I'm astounded Professor McGonagall thinks all these security measures are still needed."

"I agree sir," Harish said, making Fred drop his books onto George's foot in surprise.

"Thank you, Harish," Lockhart said while they waited for a long line of Hufflepuffs to pass. "I mean, we teachers have quite enough to be getting on with without walking students to classes and standing guard all night…"

"That's right," the twins said, catching on.

"Why don't you leave us here, sir?" Harish asked politely. "Transfiguration is only one corridor away, and I am sure you could use the extra minutes to prepare for your next class."

"You know, Harish, I think I will," he said. "I really should go and prepare my next class—"

And he hurried off, earning a snort from Harish.

"Gone to curl his hair, more like," Harish said, sneering.

They let the rest of the Slytherins, who were regarding them suspiciously, go ahead of them and then they darted down a secret passage that would lead them right to the corridor where Moaning Myrtle's bathroom was located. Before they left the passage, however, they heard footsteps. Harish pulled out the Cloak and draped it around the three of them. They really were getting too big for it.

Harish listened until the footsteps faded away, before leading the twins out into the corridor and through the bathroom door. Then, they stepped inside.

"Oh, it's you," Myrtle said glumly from atop her toilet when she spotted Harish. "What d'you want this time?"

"To ask how you died," Harish replied.

She looked as if she couldn't have been asked a more flattering question. "Ooh, it was dreadful," she said with relish. "It happened right in this very stall. I remember it so well. I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying. Then, I heard someone come in. The said something funny, like in a made-up language. Anyway, I realized that it was a boy speaking, so I opened the door to tell him to go use his own toilet and—I _died_."

"How?" Harish asked.

"No idea," Myrtle replied in hushed tones. "All I remember seeing was a great big pair of yellow eyes over there, by that sink," she pointed to the sink nearest her stall.

Harish walked over to it and tried to turn the tap on. No water came out. He tried the next sink and water came pouring out on his hands. He went back over to inspect the chipped sink. On the faucet was a tiny snake engraved on it.

"This is it," he breathed. His eyes were alight. "This is the entrance to the Chamber."

"Say something—"

"In parseltongue!"

Harish leaned forward, about to say something, when McGonagall's voice echoed magically through the castle.

" _All students are to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers are to return to the staffroom immediately."_

"Now?" Harish shouted to no one in particular. "Come _on!_ "

"If there's been another attack—"

"We should go to the staffroom to find out—"

"What's happened."

"All right," Harish replied, thinking furiously. "All right," he repeated as he pulled out the cloak. "Get under."

And soon the three of them were dashing into the staffroom after Professor Snape. They then crouched to avoid their ankles being seen and crept to a corner that they could watch from. Soon after that the rest of the teachers arrived.

"It has happened," McGonagall said once she entered the room. "A student has been taken down into the Chamber by the monster itself."

Flitwick let out a squeal. Professor Sprout clapped her hands over her mouth. Snape gripped the back of a chair tightly and said, "How can you be sure?"

"The Heir of Slytherin has left another message right underneath the first one. _'Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.'_ "

"Who is it?" Madam Pomfrey asked. "Which student?"

"Ginny Weasley." Harish could feel the two red heads on either side of him let out a gasp. He clasped his hand over their mouths. "And that's not all. Three other students have gone missing. Harish Blake and the two Weasley twins."

All of the teachers let out a gasp.

"This looks like the end of Hogwarts. I will need each of you to tell your houses that the train will be taking them home tomorrow morning."

Just at that moment the door to the staffroom flung open and Lockhart entered, beaming.

"Sorry—dozed off—what've I missed?"

Every single other person in that room turned two glaring eyes in his direction, yet he didn't seem to notice. Snape stepped forward.

"Just the man," he said. "The very man we needed. A girl has been snatched by the monster, Lockhart. Your moment has come at last."

"My m-m-moment?" Lockhart stammered.

"That's right, Gilderoy," Sprout chipped in. "Weren't you saying last night that you knew where the entrance to the Chamber was all along?"

"I—well I—"

"Yes, didn't you say that you knew what was inside it as well?" Flitwick asked.

"D-did I? I don't recall—"

"I certainly remember you saying that you were sorry you hadn't gotten a crack at it before Hagrid was arrested," Snape confirmed. "Didn't you say the whole affair was bungled and you shouldn't had free-reign from the start?"

Lockhart stared around at his stony-faced colleagues.

"I—I really never—you may have misunderstood—"

"We'll leave you to it," Professor McGonagall said at last. "Tonight will be an excellent time to do it. We'll make sure everyone's out of your way. You'll be able to tackle the monster first. A free-reign at last."

Lockhart stared feebly around at them, but no one came to his aid. He was not even remotely handsome anymore. His lip quivered and it absence of his wide smile, his chin looked weak and feeble.

"V-very well," he said. "I'll—I'll be in my office getting—getting ready."

And he left the room.

"Right," McGonagall said, her nostrils flaring. "That's got _him_ out of our way. The Heads of Houses should go and inform their students what has happened. Tell them the Hogwarts Express will take them home first thing tomorrow. Will the rest of you please make sure that no one has been left outside of their dormitories?"

The teachers rose and left, one by one.

Alone once again, Harish ripped the cloak off. The twins were sitting huddled together with blank expressions of shock on their faces.

"What are we waiting for?" he asked, receiving no reply. "Let's go get Ginny!"

The twins looked at him, shocked.

"Really?" they asked together.

"Really," he replied. They hopped to their feet and ran out of the room, not even bothering to get under the cloak this time.

"It hasn't been long," Harish said. "She must have been taken down right before we went in there."

He led them through the corridor, but instead of heading back to the bathroom, they went the other direction. They finally came to a halt outside their Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Harish pushed through the door and made his way through the classroom and into Lockhart's office. Once they got there, they could hear scuffles and the patter of hurrying feet.

The boy cracked the door open slightly to see Professor Lockhart's eye peering at him.

"Oh, it's you boys—" he said, opening the crack a little wider. "I'm rather busy at the moment—if you'd be quick—"

Harish heaved the door open and shoved past him. "I think you'll find that you're _not_ busy," he said.

His office had been almost completely stripped and his trunk was laying over. Having his suspicions that Lockhart was going to try to run away, Harish smiled rather nastily.

"You see, I'm afraid we know your little secret."

"What do you—"

"You are a fraud," Harish said simply.

Lockhart banged the lids of his trunk shut and locked it.

"Really quite clever how you did it," Harish continued. "Tracking down all those people who really did something and wiping their memories."

"Right," Lockhart said nodding and drawing his wand. "And I'll—uh—have to do the same to you."

He raised his wand, but the three boys were quicker. They all three had their wands drawn and pointed at his face. Harish disarmed Lockhart and his wand shot out of his hand and out the window. Harish's nasty smile grew even wider.

"We want to go down to the Chamber and rescue Ginny, but of course it won't be safe," Harish continued. "So we'll need you to go down first."

"B-b-but I don't know where the Chamber even is," Lockhart protested, looking shaky and feeble again.

"Lucky for you," the twins said.

" _We_ know where—"

"The Chamber is."

" _And_ what's down there," Harish added.

They marched Lockhart out of his office, down the nearest set of stairs, through the dark corridor where the messages shone on the wall, and past the door to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Lockhart looked around nervously and Harish was pleased to see that he was shaking. Harish jabbed his wand into the man's back, forcing him over to the broken sink.

" _Open up,"_ he hissed in parseltongue and miraculously, the tap started glowing and the sink sank into the floor, revealing a large pipe in the wall. It was large enough for a man to fit through.

"Boys, I—I r-really don't think—"

Harish jabbed his wand in his back again, pushing him right in front of the pipe. "You first," he said.

Lockhart began shaking even harder. "Oh—well—all right."

Lockhart slid his legs into the pipe, hesitated, and then pushed himself the rest of the way down. The three boys could hear Lockhart's yells fade away into the distance, ending with a thud.

Harish looked at the twins, wondering if he had survived the plunge, but then the Professor said, "It's really quite filthy down here." Taking that as proof that the drop wasn't deadly, Harish slid into the pipe and followed.

It was like riding down and endless, slimy, dark slide. He could see more pipes branching off in different directions, but none were as large as the one he was in, which twisted and turned, sloping steeply downwards. He knew that he was falling deeper beneath the school than even the dungeons. Behind him, he could hear the twins, grunting and thudding slightly at the curves.

And just as he began to worry what would happen when he hit the ground, the pipe levelled out and he shot out, landing with a wet thud on the damp floor of a large tunnel. Lockhart was getting to his feet a little ways away, covered in slime and as white as a ghost. Harish stood aside and the twins came whizzing out, one after the other.

Fred landed with a crack. He whimpered and pulled his wand out of his back pocket—it had been snapped almost in two. The tip of it was clinging onto the rest by a couple strands of unicorn hair.

"My wand!" he exclaimed. George dug tape out of his pocket and handed it to him. Fred sadly wrapped the snapped bit back onto his wand.

"We must be miles beneath the school," Harish said as he stood up, his voice echoing about the tunnel.

"Under the lake, probably," George said, peering at the wet walls.

All four of them turned to stare into the darkness ahead.

"Lumos," Harish muttered and his wand lit up. "Come on," he said and he led the way into the darkness.

The tunnel was so dark, they could only see a little distance ahead. Their shadow on the wet walls looked monstrous in the wand-light. Egelbert whimpered and ducked down behind Harish's shoulder. His forehead still wasn't glowing, so the Basilisk must have been farther up the tunnel.

"Remember," Harish said quietly as they walked forward cautiously. "Any sign of movement, close your eyes straight away…"

But the tunnel was silent except for the random crunch when one of them stepped on various bones of dead rats. Finally they came to a halt after they rounded a corner and saw something huge blocking their way. Egelbert still wasn't glowing, so Harish guessed that it was a skin that the snake had shed.

Raising his wand, the light slid over the gigantic snake skin of a vivid, poisonous green, lying curled and empty across the tunnel floor. The creature that had shed it must have been twenty feet long, or more.

"Blimey," the twins said together in awe. They stepped forward and George pulled a scale off the skin and tucked it into his pocket. George did the same.

Harish found the skin's end and saw a couple of razor-sharp, venomous teeth lying on the ground. He tucked one of them into his pocket.

There was a sudden movement behind them. Lockhart's knees had given way.

"Get up," Fred said, pointing his taped wand at Lockhart.

Lockhart got to his feet—then he dived at Fred, knocking him over and grabbing his wand. Harish jumped forward but it was too late. Lockhart was straightening up with Fred's wand in his hand, a huge smile on his face.

"The adventure ends here, boys!" he exclaimed. "I shall take a bit of this skin back up to the school, tell them I was too late to save the girl, and that you three _tragically_ lost your minds at the sight of her mangled body—say goodbye to your memories!"

He raised Fred's Spellotaped wand high over his head and yelled, _"Obliviate!_ "

At the exact same time, George and Harish shouted, " _Protego!_ "

The effect of the two shields and the broken wand Lockhart was using was so strong that the wand let out a loud BANG! And the spell bounced all around the room. Harish ducked and then rolled, clinging on to Egelbert for dear life as rocks came shattering down from the ceiling.

The next moment, he was standing alone, staring at a solid wall of broken rock.

"Fred! George!" he exclaimed, half worried that they had gotten crushed.

"We're here!" came their voices, slightly muffled behind the rockfall. "I'm okay!" both said in unison.

"Well—" Fred said.

"This git's not," George finished.

"He got blasted by the wand!" they both shouted through the rocks.

There were two thuds and a loud "ow!" It sounded as though Lockhart had just gotten kicked in the shins.

"What now?" the twins asked, sounding concerned.

"We can't get through—"

"It'll take ages…"

Harish looked up at the tunnel ceiling. Huge cracks had appeared in it. He wondered vaguely if he could blast the wall apart, but was worried he would hit the twins. And what if the whole tunnel caved in?

There was another thud and another "ow!" They were wasting time.

Making up his mind, Harish said, "You two try to shift this rock. I'll go on up ahead…If I'm not back in an hour…"

There was a great pause.

"We'll get started on it!" George shouted to him and Harish could hear them trying to move some.

"And Harish—" Fred started, but Harish cut across him.

"See you in a bit."

And he set off past the giant snake skin, with Egelbert atop his shoulders. Soon the sound of the two straining to move rocks was gone and the tunnel turned and turned. Every nerve in Harish's body was tingling unpleasantly. He had never faced anything as dangerous as a deadly Basilisk before. He walked on, wanting badly for the tunnel to end, but dreading what he would find when it did. Finally, the teen stopped as he turned a corner and saw a wall ahead on which two intertwined serpents were carved, their eyes set with glinting emeralds. Harish shivered—their eyes looked oddly alive.

He cleared his throat, knowing what to do and their eyes seemed to flicker.

" _Open,"_ he said in a low hiss.

The serpents parted as the wall cracked open, the halves slid smoothly out of sight, and Harish, shaking slightly, walked inside. Slowly the pustule on Egelbert's forehead began to glow a bright, vivid red.

* * *

 **Dun dun dun DUUUUNNNN! Lots happened in this one!**

 **R &R&TTFN**


	43. Part 4: Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. But I do own Harish Thomas Riddle. :)**

* * *

 **Chapter Twelve: Harish Thomas Riddle**

Harish was standing at the end of a very long, dimly lit chamber. Towering stone pillars entwined with snakes rose to support the ceiling lost in darkness, casting long, black shadows through the odd greenish gloom that filled the place.

He stepped forward, his heart thumping in his ribcage. The boy had his eyes squinted with them open hardly enough for him to see. He was afraid the basilisk would hear him and come after him at any minute.

The teen pulled out his wand and moved further between the columns. Every careful step seemed to echo about the Chamber loudly. He kept his eyes ready to clamp shut if the need arose. As he walked out into the open, Egelbert's forehead glowed so bright that he lit up the dark chamber with an eerie, blood-red light.

Along one wall was a statue of a wizard that towered to the ceiling. Its face was slightly monkeyish and ancient, its beard fell almost to the bottom of its sweeping robes, where two enormous grey feet stood on the smooth floor of the Chamber. And between the feet, lying peacefully with her flaming hair all around her was a small, black figure.

Harish walked forward, wrenching his eyes off his ancestor's face and he dashed over to Ginny. He slipped his wand into the pocket of his robes and he slid to a halt, kneeling beside her. Her face was pale and her eyes were closed. She wasn't petrified, but she wasn't dead. Her hands were crossed across her stomach and one of them clutched a small black book.

"She won't wake," said a soft voice.

Harish wheeled around to find himself staring once again into the face of the sixteen-year-old version of his father. He bit his tongue to keep from crying out, _"Father!"_

Instead, he asked. "Tom? Tom Riddle?"

Riddle—well, Not-Riddle—nodded, not taking his eyes off Harish's face. His expression was a mixture of curiosity and hunger. Harish knew that he was probably noticing how similar they looked. To distract him, Harish decided to play the innocent.

"What do you mean, she won't wake? She's not—she's not—?"

"She's still alive," Not-Riddle replied. "But only just."

"Are you a ghost?" Harish asked, praying that he was buying them some time.

"A memory," Not-Riddle replied quietly. "Preserved in the diary for fifty years."

Harish took this as a chance to avert his face from Riddle's. He looked down at the small book in Ginny's hands.

"Yes," Not-Riddle replied. "It's amazing how much a silly little book can do. Especially in the hands of a _silly little girl_."

"What d'you—?" Harish asked, looking at Ginny's face now, keeping his head down.

"Don't you see? It was Ginny who opened the Chamber."

"How?"

"The diary. My diary. She's been writing in it for months now, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes—how her brothers _tease_ her, how she had to come to school with second hand robes and books, how—" Harish looked up and saw Not-Riddle reading his face hungrily. "she was _so_ afraid she was the one behind the attacks…It was very _boring_ , having to listen to the silly troubles of an eleven-year-old girl," he went on. "But I was patient. I wrote back. I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply _loved_ me…. _'No one's ever understood me before, Tom…I'm so glad I've got this diary to confide in…It's like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket…'_ "

Not-Riddle laughed a high, cold laugh that set Harish's teeth on edge.

"Little Ginny poured out her soul to me and as she grew more attached to the diary I was able to pour a bit of myself into her. You see, it _was_ Ginny who strangled the school roosters and wrote threatening messages on the walls. Ginny set the serpent of Slytherin on four Mudbloods and the Squib's cat."

"Why?"

"Because I told her to. You can find I can be very persuasive. Of course, she didn't _know_ what she was doing at first…it was quite funny. Her entries grew much more interesting after that… _Dear Tom,"_ he recited, watching Harish's face grow angrier. " _I think I'm losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes and I can't remember how they got there. Dear Tom, I can't remember where I was on Halloween, but a cat was attacked and I've got paint all down my front. Dear Tom, Percy keeps telling me I'm pale, I think he suspects me…There was another attack today and I don't know where I was. Tom, what am I going to do? I think I'm the one attacking everyone, Tom!'_ "

Harish listened in silence, his hands clenching so tight his nails dug into the palm of his hands.

"It took a very long time for little Ginny to stop trusting the diary, but she finally became suspicious and tried to dispose of it. And that's where you came in. You can imagine how surprised I was when one day Ginny was writing in my diary, and then the next day it was you who held it. I showed you my memory of catching that brainless oaf, Hagrid to gain your trust, but then you never wrote back and Ginny had the diary once more. She saw you with the diary, you see, and panicked. What if you found out how to work it and I repeated all of her secrets to you? What if I even told her who had been strangling roosters? But the foolish brat stole the diary back and tried to tell you _herself_ who had opened the Chamber. Of course, I couldn't have that, so I made her tell you it was nothing, write her own farewell message on the wall, and then come down here and wait for me. She struggled and cried and became _very_ boring, but there wasn't much life in her…But she told me enough that I knew you would come down here to rescue her, for _no one_ is allowed to touch _your_ friends."

Harish looked into the Other-Riddle's red eyes and grinned.

"You caught me," he said cheekily. His grin grew wider when Riddle looked confused. "But you're wrong."

"Wrong?" Riddle spat. His smile was replaced by an ugly look. "What did I miss?"

"I didn't come down here to rescue Ginny," Harish replied. "I have been looking for the Chamber for long before it was ever opened this year."

"That doesn't matter!" Other-Riddle snapped. "You're here now, where I can dispose of you and no one will know about my diary. _Speak to me, Slytherin. Greatest of the Hogwarts four."_

Harish wheeled around to look at the statue. Egelbert whimpered and ducked behind his shoulder again. Slytherin's ginormous stone face was moving as its mouth opened wider and wider to make a huge black hole. Something slithered out of the mouth. Harish ran to the other side of the Chamber and hid behind a statue. He pulled a mirror out of his pocket (being petrified would be a lot better than being dead) and glanced to see something huge and bright green hit the floor.

" _Kill him."_ The demon said before addressing Harish. "Parseltongue won't save you now, Blake. It only obeys the Heir."

The teen reached for his wand, but realized it wasn't there. He angled the mirror towards Riddle to see that he held it. "You're wrong about another thing!" he shouted. He could hear the basilisk coming towards him. Harish flitted to another pillar to hide behind. "You're not really Tom Riddle. You are just an insane demon who has been in that diary for so long that you forgot who you are."

The serpent lunged for him and Harish could hear the crunch of rock as he slid out of the way. He ran into a passage leading slightly off the Chamber and looked up to see a pipe going up into the ceiling. It was too small for the basilisk to fit through.

Harish heaved himself into it and slid sideways into a separate tunnel that was going parallel to the ground. He slid along it and found a metal vent that showed him a view of the Chamber.

"How do you know this?" the demon shouted.

"I am the _real_ Tom Riddle's son!"

He closed his eyes and slid sideways to another vent as the basilisk lunged for him.

"NO!" the demon shouted. "I would never have had children! I know this from the memories!"

"Not you!" Harish shouted. "You're _not_ Tom Riddle. You're wrong _again_ because he did have me."

"Prove it!" Not-Riddle spat.

"My name isn't Harish Anata Blake," Harish yelled as the serpent lunged for the grate. The grate broke and Harish shut his eyes. He could hear the basilisk rearing back again, so he continued even louder. "My real name is Harish Thomas Riddle and you know what that means? _Stop!_ "

The boy opened his eye a crack to see that the basilisk had indeed stopped and its eyes were averted from him. Its bared teeth were only a foot away from the arm he had thrown up. He slid to his right and down the tube that led him back into the Chamber. He walked slowly out to meet the demon. Red eyes stared into pale green ones.

"I am afraid," Harish said. "That being the real heir overrides being a demon stuck in a copy of the heir's body, don't you think?"

Not-Riddle just stared at him. He sat down next to Ginny and pulled the diary out of her hand.

"What are you doing?" the demon asked. Harish pulled the basilisk fang out of his pocket. "Stop!"

He lunged forward, but Harish stabbed the fang into the centre of the diary. Ink poured out of it and Not-Riddle fell to the floor writhing, twisting, and screaming. And then—he was gone. Something shadowy and red rose out of him and it became more clear. It was the demon that had possessed the diary. It was red, had scales, and pointy teeth. It screamed as well before it exploded, little red wisps of smoke flying everywhere and dissipating.

Harish panted, his chest heaving up and down, and dropped the diary and the fang. His hands shook as he sat down and breathed a sigh of relief. Then Ginny sucked air in hard and sat up, looking around. She saw Harish, and then the ruined diary, and then the basilisk that had curled up a little ways away, and then she burst into tears.

"I—I did it!" she wailed. "R-Riddle made me!"

Not knowing what to do, Harish said. "It's all right. He's gone now."

"Gone?" Ginny asked.

Harish nodded and held up the diary in his right hand and the fang in his left. "I destroyed it." She looked at the diary. "It's all over," he said, standing up. He shifted the diary to his left hand and helped her to her feet. "Come on, let's get out of here."

But she began crying even harder. "I'll be expelled! I've been looking forward to coming ever since B-Bill got old enough and n-now I'll have to leave and— _w-what'll Mum and Dad say?_ "

Harish led her out of the Chamber and back into the tunnel. It didn't seem quite so eerie now. After a few minutes progress, a distant sound of slowly shifting rock could be heard.

"Guys!" Harish shouted. "Ginny is okay! I've got her!"

He heard two strangled cheers and they turned the next bend to his two freckled faces smiling eagerly through a sizable gap in the rocks.

"Ginny!" they both exclaimed at seeing her. Fred reached an arm through the whole to pull her through first.

After Harish had squeezed through, the two started swooping around Ginny to make sure she was all right and chattering.

"You're alive!"

"I don't believe it!"

"How—"

"What—"

"I'm so glad!"

They stopped short when they realized Ginny was crying harder than ever. They looked questioningly at Harish.

"Later," he said and decided for a subject change. "Where's Lockhart?"

"Back there," they said, pointing up the tunnel toward the pipe.

"He's in bad shape—"

"Hasn't got a clue who he is!"

Egelbert, who had stopped glowing ages ago, scampered up the passage, obviously eager to get out of there. The four students followed him and came out to see Lockhart sitting on the ground, humming to himself.

Lockhart peered happily at them as they walked up to him.

"Hello," he said. "Odd sort of place this is. Do you live here?"

"No," the twins replied, raising their eyebrows at Harish.

Harish walked past them and looked up the steep tunnel.

"Have you thought—"

"Of how we're gonna—"

"Get back up this tunnel?" the twins asked.

Harish nodded and said in Parseltongue. _"Stairs_." Stairs appeared. "I'm so glad that worked," he said.

The group of five then made their way slowly back up to the bathroom. When they emerged from the pipe, the sink slid back into place and Myrtle goggled at them.

"You're alive," she said blankly as Harish forced Lockhart to his feet (he had fallen on his face when he climbed out).

"There's no need to sound disappointed," Harish replied as he wiped flecks of grime and ink off of his face.

Without another word they left the bathroom. Harish decided it would be best to go to the Hospital Wing, as Lockhart had lost his memory and Ginny was still crying.

But, before they had made it into the entrance hall, they ran into Dumbledore. Harish looked down at the diary and the basilisk fang that were still clutched in his left hand. He vaguely wondered what the headmaster thought at the sight of the five of them, all covered in grime and walking out of the girl's bathroom.

* * *

 **Almost done!**

 **R &R!**

 **~TTFN**


	44. Part 4: Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirteen: The Best Worst Year Ever**

Dumbledore didn't say anything, but motioned for them to follow him. He led them to Professor McGonagall's office. He went inside, but the three boys, one professor, and one traumatized girl stood in the doorway, dripping grime and (in Harish's case) ink until—

" _Ginny!_ " Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. She had been crying by the fire, but at the sight of her daughter, she had leapt up, followed by Mr. Weasley, and the two of them had flung themselves on Ginny.

Harish looked past them to see Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore standing behind the desk. Then, he found himself being pulled into a hug.

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley. Long-time no see," he said, muffled through Fred's shoulder. The three boys were being squashed into a hug along with Ginny.

"You saved her! You saved her! _How_ did you do it?"

"I think we'd all like to know that," McGonagall said weakly.

Harish and the twins were finally released and all eyes turned to them. The twins looked at him, telling him silently that he should convey their story.

So he began telling everyone in the room all about hearing the voice every time someone had been attacked. He told them about how Hermione had figured out it was a basilisk, how he and the twins had followed the spiders into the forest, that Hagrid's spider told them that a girl had died in the bathroom, how they had guessed Moaning Myrtle had been the victim, and that the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets might be in her bathroom…

"So you found the entrance," McGonagall said finally. "Breaking about a dozen school rules into pieces on the way—but how on _earth_ did you all get out of there alive, Blake?"

So Harish, who's throat was beginning to get a bit dry, told them all about how Fred's wand had broken, how Lockhart tried to Obliviate them but caused a cave-in instead, that Harish had used parseltongue to open the Chamber, how he had managed to get rid of the culprit, and once he was gone, the basilisk obeyed him because he was a parselmouth…He still hadn't mentioned the diary or how Ginny had been forced to attack everyone, afraid that she would be expelled.

Then Dumbledore said, "What interests me most is how Lord Voldemort managed to use Ginny, when my sources tell me he is currently hiding in Albania."

Harish smiled. So Bellatrix's mission had gone well. Dumbledore _did_ think his father was in Albania.

"Not You-Know-Who," he corrected. "It was his diary." He held up the destroyed diary. "From what I gathered, the person who had been possessing Ginny wasn't really a person at all—but a demon. It said that it had used You-Know-Who's diary to kill people. It said that it had possessed the diary fifty years ago and used You-Know-Who's memories to open the Chamber and kill a girl. Then it said You-Know-Who locked it away and that was all it could remember until Ginny started writing in the diary."

"And it opened the Chamber again," Dumbledore concluded for him.

Harish nodded.

"Ginny!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed at hearing that. "Haven't I taught you _anything_? What have I always told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself _if you can't see where it keeps its brain!_ Why didn't you show the diary to your mother? Obviously it was full of horrible magic."

"I-I didn't know," Ginny sobbed. "I found it inside one of the books Mum got me. I th-thought someone had left it in there and forgotten about it—"

"Miss Weasley should be taken to the Hospital Wing right away," Dumbledore interrupted. "This has been a terrible ordeal for her. There will be no punishment. Older and wiser wizards have been hoodwinked like this before." He strode over to the door and opened it. "Bed rest and perhaps a large, steaming mug of hot chocolate. I find that always cheers me up. Madam Pomfrey will be in there. She is giving the Mandrake potion to those who have been petrified as we speak. There has not been any lasting damage done."

"So Hermione's okay?" Fred asked brightly.

Dumbledore nodded.

When the three had left, Dumbledore turned to the Slytherin boys.

"I expect that the three of you shall be receiving Special Awards for Services to the School and—let's see—one hundred points each for Slytherin." All three of them gaped. "Now I think the three of you and Professor Lockhart over there need to go to the Hospital Wing as well."

And they left in stunned silence. No one saying a word except for Lockhart.

"Am I a professor? Goodness, I expect I was hopeless, wasn't I?"

 _THREE-HUNDRED-POINTS—WE-HAVE-TO-WIN-NOW!_

Harish had been to several Hogwarts feasts, but never had he experienced one quite like the one he did that night. Everyone were still in their pajamas and the celebration lasted nearly all night. Hermione had come running up, shouting, "You did it! You solved it!"

Then all of the girls in her year had hugged her and exclaimed, "How dare he!"

"How dare that demon try to kill you!"

"Imagine! The last Black dead!"

Hermione had looked really confused at that last statement and Harish raised an eyebrow at her, telling her to play along. Then Justin had come running up, and apologized profusely for suspecting him. Dean had then come over along with a couple of the girls from his Quidditch team, telling Harish that he knew he would solve it and the Gryffindor girls thanked him. Then at about half past three Hagrid had arrived, cuffing Harish so hard on the shoulders that his face was thrown into the table. After that, McGonagall had stood up and announced that all exams had been cancelled, earning loud cheers from every single student. Dumbledore announced that Slytherin won the House cup and that Professor Lockhart would not be returning as he needed to regain his memory, earning cheers from even some of the teachers.

"And he was beginning to grow on me!" Draco had shouted over the noise.

In that year alone, Harish found that he had established friends across the four houses. He now talked with Dean often, and some of the other Gryffindor girls would hang out with them. Both the Ravenclaw girl and Justin owed Harish, and let him know it. He enjoyed the feast immensely and the whole night was topped off by a kiss on the cheek from Daphne that caused both of them to blush bright red.

The rest of the term was spent outside in the sun. Hogwarts was back to normal with a few differences. Defence the Dark Arts classes were of course cancelled and Ginny was perfectly happy and normal. Egelbert was always seen sitting on Harish's shoulder when Kettleburn had told him he could keep him.

But all too soon, it was time to go home again. Harish, Fred, George, Hermione, Draco, Daphne, and Ginny all got a compartment together and they were later joined by Dean Thomas, Angelina Johnson, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and some Ravenclaw girl named Luna, who was friends with Ginny. They spent the last of their hours together playing Exploding Snap. The twins set off their last pack of fireworks and the younger students practiced disarming each other. Finally the Hogwarts Express slowed and came to a halt.

They said their final goodbyes and everyone promised to write with Harish.

When he approached his father to go home, he found that he was beaming from ear to ear. Though the year hadn't been all that great, its ending had been perfect.

* * *

 **Have you ever had a year like that? How do you suppose Sirius would react to new and improved Harry? Are the twins as bad with technology as the rest of their family? To find out, R &R!**

 **~TTFN**


	45. Part 5: Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Chapter One: Lily's Eyes**

Hermione Granger sat at the dining room table, eating breakfast. She sat on the side of the table with her parents on the ends. Suddenly the telephone rang.

"I'll get it," Mrs. Granger said. She put down her fork and stood up.

When she answered the phone, all three Grangers jumped and Mrs. Granger moved the phone nearly a foot away from her ear.

"HELLO?" came Fred Weasley's voice. He was a friend of Hermione's from school and she could hear him loud and clear from in the dining room. "I—WANT—TO—SPEAK—TO-HERMIONE—GRANGER!"

Hermione giggled as her mother cautiously put the phone back up to her ear and asked, "Who is this?"

"FRED WEASLEY. I—AM—A—FRIEND—FROM—SCHOOL!"

Hermione walked into the kitchen and reached out for the phone. Her mother handed it to her.

"This is Hermione," Hermione said.

"HI—" Fred said, still shouting into the phone.

"Fred—" Hermione interrupted, trying to get his attention.

"HERMI—" Fred still continued.

"Fred!" She called his name again.

"ONE!" Perhaps he hadn't heard her.

"FRED!" Hermione shouted. Fred finally fell silent. "Fred, you don't need to shout. I can hear you perfectly fine."

"Oh," Fred replied.

"I told you not to shout," came a second voice. This one was Fred's twin brother, George.

"Shut up," Fred replied.

Hermione giggled again.

 _TOLD-YOU-SO—TOLD-YOU-SO!_

Harish Blake loved being influential. He knew that his friends, the Weasley twins, never got to go on vacations or anything of the sort because their family was so poor. Mrs. Weasley didn't work and Mr. Weasley worked in the Department for Misuse of Muggle Artefacts at the Ministry of Magic, which was not a very high paying job.

But, of course, Harish was Voldemort's son, so he could pull strings when he wanted to. At the beginning of the summer, he had gone to his father and asked if he could do something for his friends.

"Father?" he had asked.

"Yes, Harish?" the Dark Lord had replied, flicking a page in a book over.

"Well, I wanted to do something for my friends. You see, they don't often get to do much because of their family, so I was wondering if we could arrange for them to take a trip?"

Voldemort raised an eyebrow. "And how would we do that?" he asked.

"Well," Harish replied uncertainly. "We could get Mr. Malfoy to arrange some sort of prize to give to someone in the Ministry that would be money or a trip to somewhere or something."

Voldemort nodded thoughtfully. "That sounds reasonable. I think the Weasley family is participating in the _Daily Prophet's_ Galleon Draw. Perhaps Lucius could fix the odds in their favour."

Harish beamed.

Only a couple weeks later, Harish received a letter from the twins telling him that the Weasleys had won seven hundred galleons from the Galleon Draw, and they were allowed to invite Harish on a trip to Egypt. Harish had been pleased that they had won, but shocked that _he_ was going to be going with them. The next week he flooed over to the Burrow and all nine of the Weasleys plus Harish left to visit the eldest Weasley brother, Bill, where he worked as a curse-breaker in Egypt.

 _EGYPT—HERE-WE-COME!_

Sirius Black sat in his prison cell in Azkaban. The man listened to the wails of someone nearby. He was hunkered down in the furthest corner from the cell door to try to put as much distance between him and the dementors, who guarded Azkaban prison. They were horrible creatures that sucked all of the joy and happiness out of someone until all that was left was a distant shell of that person. Most people who were sent to Azkaban went mad within weeks.

But Sirius managed to keep his thoughts together by remembering that he was innocent. He had been sent to Azkaban for the betrayal of the Potters, the mass murder of thirteen Muggles, and the slaughtering of Peter Pettigrew. Sirius knew that none of this was true, but he hadn't denied that it was his fault that the Potters were all dead.

When the Potters went into hiding, Dumbledore had cast a Fidelius Charm to protect the family. The cottage would be hidden and unplottable as long as the Secret-Keeper did not tell anyone where it was. They had wanted to make Sirius the Secret-Keeper, but he said that it would be too obvious that they would choose him. So, instead he convinced them to use Pettigrew as their Secret-Keeper last minute.

The night the Potters were murdered, Sirius had gone to check up on Peter to make sure he was all right. But instantly he knew something was wrong when Pettigrew wasn't there. From there, the wizard went to where the Potters were hiding in Godric's Hollow, only to find their house in ruins and people milling all about. He couldn't get inside, but trusted that when Lily died she had saved Harry's life, so he decided to go after the rat.

Sirius managed to corner Pettigrew in the middle of a Muggle street. The rat had then shouted to the entire street that Sirius had betrayed James and Lily, cut off his finger, blew up the street, and escaped into the sewers as a rat. Sirius, mad with grief, did not deny killing the Potters, but laughed insanely and was sentenced to a life time in Azkaban.

Ever since then, Sirius focused on the fact that Harry may still be alive to keep going. He went over his memories with the Potters and told himself time and time again that he wasn't guilty. Sometimes when the cold depression of the dementors was too much, he would transform into a dog. Dementors didn't effect dogs as much and they only took the lower intelligence level of the dog as that he had gone mad.

So here he was, sitting in his cell in Azkaban, remembering Harry's happy face. He could remember the small tufts of black hair, the bright and intelligent green eyes, and the little button nose. Suddenly Sirius was broken out of his thoughts as Fudge made his yearly inspection of the prison. Fudge stopped outside his cell door and peered inside. Sirius noticed that he had a newspaper in his hand.

"Hello Minister," Sirius said, scooting forward slightly. Fudge looked at him, dumbfounded. "Could I see your newspaper? I miss doing the crossword."

Fudge stared at him for a split second before handing the paper over to the man, looking slightly wary that Sirius would come out and bite him. Fudge shook himself and walked on to inspect the next cell. Happy that he had something to distract him from the dementors, Sirius started to open the paper, intending to open it to the crossword, but he stopped when he caught sight of the picture on the front page.

It was a black-and-white photo of a group of ten. Sirius recognised Molly and Arthur and realised that this must have been their family. But this wasn't what had caught his attention. In the centre of the picture, sitting atop a tall boy's shoulder, was a rat and it was missing a toe. Sirius realised this couldn't be a coincidence. How many rats are missing a toe right where an index finger would be on a human? He looked at the boy and figured that it was his rat, and he looked about school age.

Sirius put a grimy finger on the picture and muttered, "He's at Hogwarts…"

Then, his eyes caught on a pair of eyes on the end of the picture. _They were Lily's eyes_. He looked hungrily at the boy's features. He had hair that stuck up at the back, just like James' hair had and it was dark in colour, standing out surrounded by the sea of red (though it didn't show in the black and white photo). He looked back at the eyes again, _Lily's eyes,_ and breathed a sigh of relief. Harry _was_ alive! But suddenly he began to panic. He was at the castle with Pettigrew!

Sirius then knew what he had to do. He had to break out of Azkaban and kill that filthy rat to avenge the Potters' deaths. Sirius carefully tore the photo out and tucked it into the pocket of his filthy prisoner robes after he took one last look at Lily's eyes.

 _POOR-CRAZY-MAN—DOESN'T-REALIZE-WHAT-HE'S-GETTING-INTO_

Harish enjoyed Egypt immensely. Bill took them all around to some of the tombs and pyramids that he had had to remove curses from. There was one pyramid that Mrs. Weasley wouldn't let Ginny go into because it was full of mutant skeletons of Muggles who had grown extra heads or limbs. Percy had been acting like a prat to Harish and the twins ever since he had received his Head Boy badge, so the twins had attempted to lock him in an old tomb. They were unsuccessful, of course, as Mrs. Weasley had caught them and sent them straight back to the room they were staying in until dinner.

Harish had decided he didn't want to explore Egypt without his friends so he had joined them in their punishment. They spent the couple hours locked in their room planning for more joke products. They had already managed to get a head start in the business, and they had created a coupled of trick sweets. At dinner time the twins came out, followed by Harish.

The three boys joined the rest of the Weasleys at a long table. Harish still had Fred and George on either side of him. They sat on the end by Mr. Weasley with Ginny and Bill across from them. All the other Weasleys that didn't like Harish so much sat at the other end of the table. Apparently Ron had bought a Pocket Sneakoscope for his friend, Neville, and it sat balanced on its point beside his cup of water.

"So, Harish," Bill asked. "What sort of profession are you thinking of going into once you leave school?"

Harish was surprised by that question.

"I don't know," he replied. "I guess I haven't really thought about it."

Bill nodded. "There are plenty of places you could go. Dad, for instance works at the Ministry. It's mainly a job you want if you want to be stuck behind a desk all day," Bill shot his father a grin. "Being a dragon rider, a curse-breaker, or an auror are some jobs that involve a lot of action. It just depends on what you want."

"Well, I don't think I want to be stuck behind some desk all day," Harish said with a grin. "I guess I've been thinking more along the lines of maybe starting a joke shop."

Ron's Sneakoscope started whirring madly and Harish shot it an annoyed look.

"A joke shop?" Bill asked in surprise. "I could see that, if you're a big prankster."

Ron's Sneakoscope still hadn't stopped whirring and was beginning to give everyone a headache.

"Ron, why'd you buy that thing?" Bill asked finally.

"I want to give it to Neville. I'm sure he'd like it," Ron replied.

"Those things are really unreliable," Bill said. "I wouldn't trust it."

Harish had to stuff a fist in his mouth to stop laughing when he caught sight of the twins slipping more beetles into Bill's soup while his head was turned in Ron's direction.

 _NEVER-TRUST-ANYTHING—WHEN-THE-TWINS-ARE-NEAR_

Sirius transformed into a dog and waited for the dementors to come by to give him food. When they did, he was thin enough that he slipped through the bars and left his cell. The dog animagus took a second to revel in the fact that he was no longer in that cell before he made his way out of the fortress, sticking to the shadows. Once out of Azkaban, he walked down the rocky island and plunged straight into the chilly water. The water lapped at his fur and he paddled his way across the water for what could have been hours. By the time he made it to shore, he was thoroughly exhausted, but he wouldn't give up until he made it out of the water.

Once on the shore, he collapsed and slept there for the entire night and then most of the next morning until a fisherman woke him up, shouting about mangy, flee-bitten dogs. From there he headed into the woods and walked all day. He had no idea where he was going, but currently he wanted to put as much distance between him and Azkaban before he changed back into a human. That night he slept up against the side of a house, letting its warmth wash over him.

He walked on and on until finally he decided he had gone far enough. Then, he stole a map and transformed back into a man. Deciding that he should head for Hogwarts, he set off on the long journey not knowing that miles away the dementors were in an uproar at his escape and the Minister was frantically starting searches for him. Sirius only kept a few thoughts in his head. "Pettigrew's at Hogwarts….must stay hidden…must get to Hogwarts…I can't wait to see Harry."

He pulled the photo from the newspaper out of his paper and looked at Lily's eyes.

"I promise I will find you, Harry."

 _SIRIUS BLACK—THE-ONE-PERSON-WHO-STILL-THINKS-HARRY'S-ALIVE_

Harish and the twins were admiring magic carpets when their vacation went wrong. Mr. Weasley had been reading the _Daily Prophet_ when he turned a ghastly shade of white. No one noticed, as they were all scattered through different stands looking a Egyptian merchandise. He had then called Mrs. Weasley and she began to look downright terrified after she read the article. They then agreed that they had to go home.

"Come on, boys," Molly said to Harish and the twins. "We have to leave now."

"Where are we—"

"Going now?" the twins asked eagerly.

"Home," she replied.

"Home?" all three boys squawked.

"But we've only been here two days!" George exclaimed.

"Yes," Mrs. Weasley replied. "And now we're leaving. Meet me back at the inn in five minutes—no complaints."

The three boys looked at each other, all sensing that they were going home for a reason. Deciding it was best not to protest, they went ahead and went back to the inn they had been staying at. In five minutes time, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley joined them with Percy, Ginny, and Ron in tow. They arranged a portkey back home and at the Burrow, Harish's father was already waiting on him.

After they had apparated home, Harish asked, "What's going on?"

Voldemort handed a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ to Harish, who immediately began reading it.

 **BLACK STILL AT LARGE**

 _Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today._

" _We are doing all we can to recapture Black," said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, "and we beg the magical community to remain calm."_

 _Fudge has been criticised by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis._

" _Well, really, I had to, don't you know," said an irritable Fudge. "Black is mad. He's a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister's assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black's trued identity to anyone. And let's face it—who'd believe him if he did?"_

 _While Muggles have been informed that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand that Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that if twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse._

When Harish read that last bit, he looked at the picture of Black, taking in the sunken features, waxy skin, and haunted eyes. Then, he looked up at his father.

"Everyone says that Sirius Black was my right hand man and has escaped from Azkaban to join up with me," Voldemort finally said. "But I never had a death eater under the name of Sirius Black. His brother, Regulus, was one and from what I heard from him, it would be a cold day in hell before Sirius would go over to the dark side."

"Why do they—who is—why are you telling me this?" Harish asked, having trouble forming his multiple questions into a coherent sentence.

"I am telling you this because I _know_ that he broke out of Azkaban for a reason, but it wasn't because he wanted to join up with me. I had a death eater named Peter Pettigrew who was a spy on a secret organisation led by Dumbledore called the Order of the Phoenix. He was the one who told me where the Potters were hiding. I think that everyone believed that Black had told me instead, because he was so close to Potter, so naturally, he would know where they were hiding. I just want you to be on your guard, for I have no idea the real reason he had for breaking out of prison."

Harish nodded and went on up to his room. It seemed like every single year held a new surprise for him.

* * *

 **What a mess Sirius created. Voldie suspects that he's going to find either Harish or Pettigrew, Harish thinks that he might be coming for** _ **him**_ **because he was the son of Sirius's old enemy, and...what do you think the rest of the world thinks?**

 **R &R!**

 **~TTFN**


	46. Part 5: Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...**

* * *

 **Chapter Two: A Lesson on Dementors**

The rest of the summer, Harish spent sending and receiving letters from all of his friends. Harish also received a paper and a badge with his list of school supplies that year. Harish had been made a prefect. Harish had then sent out letters to his friends and conversed with them the rest of the summer.

Some of them, like Dean Thomas, Angelina Johnson, the Weasley twins, and Hermione seemed concerned about Black's escape from Azkaban. Draco Malfoy wasn't concerned at all as he knew that Black was never a follower of Voldemort to begin with. Daphne Greengrass and Luna Lovegood weren't all that concerned either. Daphne's family was neutral and Luna was…out there. Most of her letters consisted of different made-up magical creatures that her father had written about in the _Quibbler_.

Harish had finally agreed with the twins, Hermione, and Draco to meet at Diagon Alley exactly a week before the next school year started. On the day they were to meet together, Harish practically shoved his father out the door so that he could see his friends that he hadn't seen all summer.

They flooed into the Leaky Cauldron and Voldemort got Harish through the archway. Then, he went with the boy to withdraw money from Gringotts. After that, he left, agreeing to pick Harish up that evening. Harish went to Flourish and Blotts to buy his school books. There, he met Hermione, Ginny, and Draco. Ginny's books had already been bought for her, so she was just following Hermione around. Draco was buying his school books and Hermione bought hers as well, but she was also browsing eagerly. Her bag full of school books was so full, Harish was sure it would burst.

"Hermione," he said, walking up behind the two of them. "I think they put the wrong books on your book list.

Hermione and Draco both turned around and smiled when they saw him.

"Harish!" Hermione exclaimed, wrapping the older boy in a tight hug.

"Don't strangle him, Hermione," Draco said. "Hey, Harish."

"Hey," Harish replied before turning back to Hermione. "Seriously, though. Why did you buy so many books?"

"Oh, well I'm taking all of the classes this year," Hermione replied. "I couldn't decide which ones to take, so I signed up for all of them."

Harish shook his head. She was ridiculous sometimes.

The manager had nearly fainted when he was told that they needed three copies of _The Monster Book of Monsters_ , and Harish soon found out why. For some odd reason, Professor Kettleburn had decided to assign books that bite. Harish couldn't see how they were supposed to learn from it if they couldn't even get it open, though.

After they paid for their books, they ran into the twins next door at the Apothecary. Fred then proudly showed anyone who was interested his new wand. They bought the rest of the supplies they would need for the school year and then split up. The twins went to Dervish and Bangs, Harish and Draco went to Quality Quidditch Supplies, and Hermione and Ginny went to Magical Menagerie. They all agreed to meet up at Florean Fortescue's when they were done looking at the different shops. Harish and Draco both bought cleaning supplies for their brooms. The twins looked at the different joke products, wondering how they could do them better. Hermione went to spend her last bit of money on an owl, but ended up buying a giant cat instead.

Then they all met a Florean Fortescue's as they had agreed and they bought ice creams. When the day was finally over, Harish had bought everything he needed for the upcoming school year and caught up on how everyone was doing. Apparently Hermione went on vacation to France over the holidays.

Harish spent the last week of summer reading all of his school books and finishing up his homework. He was half excited, half nervous about the upcoming year as they were now fifth years and would be taking their OWL's.

Harish accidentally slept in on the morning that term started. He only woke up when Voldemort finally sent Dobby to wake him, telling him that they would be late if he didn't hurry up. He flew out of bed, got dressed in clothes to wear in the station, grabbed some food, and left the house. The two of them got to the platform with twenty minutes to spare.

Then, the fifth year had rushed to the prefects' compartment where he had to endure very boring information and instructions. The moment they were free to go, Harish hopped up and went through the train, looking for a compartment.

Finally he found a compartment at the back of the train that contained the twins, Hermione, Draco, Dean, and a shabby man, that was asleep in the corner. It was pretty full since there were six students, plus the man in the corner, but none of them minded.

"Who is he?" Harish asked down as he sat down, taking in the shabby robes. The man looked young, but he had several grey hairs already.

"Professor R. J. Lupin," Hermione replied. "It was on his trunk."

"He must be the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," Harish said thoughtfully.

"Just so long as he's better than Lockhart," Dean said.

Everyone in the compartment nodded in consent. Professor Lockhart hadn't known how to cast any spells. Not many people applied for the job anymore, as everyone began to think that the position was cursed. The previous year, Lockhart had literally been the only person to apply for the job.

Harish stared out the window, wondering why Sirius Black had broken out of Azkaban. The twins seemed to notice how quiet he was being.

"Are you all right?" they both asked in unison.

Harish nodded. "Just thinking."

"What about?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Sirius Black."

"You mean the bloke that broke out of prison?" Dean asked. "He was on the Muggle news as well as in the _Prophet_."

"Of course he was," Hermione replied. "He was convicted for the murder of _thirteen_ Muggles using only _one_ curse."

"And everyone reckons that he broke out to join up with You-Know-Who," Dean said.

Harish and Draco both remained silent as they were the only ones that knew that Black wasn't ever a death eater. Then, the twins piped up.

"Our dad thinks that he—"

"Broke out of Azkaban to kill off Neville Longbottom—"

"Because it was rumoured that You-Know-Who—"

"Wanted to get rid of him before his downfall."

"Really?" Harish asked.

"Yeah," both twins replied.

"Dad says that before he escaped, he was muttering in his sleep, 'He's at Hogwarts'," Fred said.

"The Minister reasoned that Black was heading towards Hogwarts because of that," George specified.

Harish nodded. Black could very well be heading towards Hogwarts, even if not for the reasons that the Minister suspected. Conversation carried on after that. The third years were looking forward to Hogsmeade and were having arguments about where in the village they should go first. Harish and the twins continued talking about Black until the topic got a little old and they started discussing the Chamber of Secrets in undertones.

Voldemort had told Harish that if he found the Chamber before his fifth year, he would get a reward. Harish managed to find it in his fourth year, so now they were discussing what sort of prize they should receive.

He and the twins thought about it for a bit before Harish said, "Isn't the Quidditch World Cup coming to Britain next year?"

The twins thought for a second before nodding.

"We should get him to get us tickets to the World Cup!" Harish exclaimed excitedly.

"That is a perfect idea!" the twins exclaimed.

Hermione began fiddling with the straps of a wicker basket. Then, next thing he knew, the was a giant, orange, furry beast flying around the compartment. Egelbert dove down into Harish's bag.

"Crookshanks!" Hermione exclaimed, leaping up and grabbing him.

"What is that thing?" Draco asked.

"It's a cat!" Hermione said indignantly.

Harish looked at it. It was too huge to be a normal cat.

"It must be part kneazle," he said. The twins nodded in agreement.

Hermione scratched the beast behind the ears and it finally settled down, taking a nap stretched across Hermione and Dean's laps.

The train chugged north. The cities and towns grew into fields. Then the fields changed to dense, wild forests. At around one the lunch trolley came around and nearly everyone bought food. Professor Lupin was still asleep and they didn't want to wake him. Then an hour later rain began to pound violently against the windows and the sky grew dark with clouds. The light gradually faded all together as it got later and the lights flickered on. The rain began pouring as hard as ever and the wind began howling, but still Professor Lupin slept on.

"We must be nearly there," Dean said, leaning forward to look past Lupin through the now completely black window.

Just as he said that, the train began to slow down.

"Great," the twins said. Dean got up to look out the window more closely. "I'm starving."

Hermione glanced at her watched. "We can't be there yet," she said worriedly.

"Then why have we stopped?" Draco asked.

The train was moving slower and slower and the sound of the pistons moving faded away, the rain seeming even louder. Harish, who was nearest the door, got up to look into the corridor. All along the carriage, people were sticking their heads out curiously.

The train came to a halt with a sudden jolt and distant thuds and crashes told him that luggage had fallen from the racks. Then, without warning, the lamps shut off and they were plunged into darkness.

"What's going on?" came Draco's voice, higher than usual.

Harish felt his way back to his seat.

"Ouch!" Hermione squealed. "Dean, that was my foot!"

"Do you think we've broken down?" the twins asked.

"I don't know…" Harish replied. There was squeaking noise as Dean cleared off the window and peered outside.

"There's something moving out there," he said. "I think people are coming on board."

Harish could heard the compartment door open and there was a dull thud as someone tripped over his legs.

"Ouch—sorry—who's that?"

"Harish," Harish answered. "Who's that?"

"It's Daphne." Harish felt his face grow hot. Why did it have to do that? "Is there an open seat anywhere?"

"Beside me," he replied.

"I'm going to ask the conductor what's going on," came Hermione's voice and the door slid open again, followed by a smack and two groans of pain.

"Who's that?"

"Who's _that?"_

"Ginny?"

"Hermione?"

"What are you doing?"

"I was looking for the twins."

"Come in and sit down," Harish called. "Not here! _I'm_ here!"

"Ouch!" Daphne squealed.

"Quiet!" a hoarse voice said suddenly.

Professor Lupin appeared to have woken up at last. Harish could hear him moving in the corner. No one said anything.

There was a soft crackling noise and a dim light filled the compartment. Professor Lupin appeared to be holding a handful of flames. They illuminated his tired face, making every line stand out. His eyes looked alert and wary.

"Stay where you are," he said in the same hoarse voice. He got slowly to his feet, holding the flames in front of him. Before he could even reach the door, it slid open.

Standing in the doorway was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden by its hood. Harish looked downwards and saw a slimy, scaly hand protruding out of the cloak. As though the creature sensed his gaze, it withdrew its hand into its sleeve. Then the thing beneath the hood drew a rattling breath as though it was trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings.

A strong cold swept over Harish, chilling him to the bone. He felt his breath catch in his chest; it felt like being dunked with a bucket of icy water. The cold penetrated his skin and seeped into his heart. Harish's eyes rolled up into his head. He couldn't see and felt as if he was drowning in cold. There was a rushing in his ears. He was being dragged downward, the roaring growing louder.

And then, from far away, her heard terrible screaming. Terrible, terrified, pleading screams. He had no idea who it was, or where they were. All he could see was darkness and it terrified him… A thick white fog swirled around him and then—

"Harish! Harish! Are you all right?"

Someone was slapping his face.

"Stop!" he said, getting fed up with the slapping.

He opened his eyes to see Fred and George leaning over him. There were lanterns above him and the floor was shaking. He seemed to have slid out of his seat and onto the floor. Above the twins he could see Daphne and Lupin watching worriedly. Harish felt very sick and began shaking all over. When he raised a hand to rub his eyes, he felt cold sweat on his brow.

The twins heaved him back into his seat.

"Are you okay?" Daphne asked nervously.

"Yes," he said, wiping the sweat off completely. The hooded creature had vanished. "What happened? Where's that thing? Who screamed?"

"No one screamed," Draco said uneasily.

Harish looked around the bright compartment. Everyone in there were watching him cautiously. Daphne looked frightened and Ginny was very pale.

"I must have been dreaming," Harish said. Everyone looked slightly calmer when he said that.

A loud snap made them all jump. Professor Lupin was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into bits.

"Here," he said, handing Harish a particularly large piece. "Eat it. It'll help."

Harish took the chocolate, but didn't eat it.

"Was that a dementor?" he asked.

Lupin nodded. "One of the dementors of Azkaban." Everyone stared at him. "Eat," he repeated. "It'll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me…"

He walked past Harish and disappeared into the corridor.

"Are you sure you're okay, Harry?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"I don't get it…What happened?" he asked.

"Well that thing—the dementor—stood there and look around. I mean, I think it did, I couldn't see its face—and you—you—"

"I thought you were having a fit or something," George said.

"You went all rigid and fell out of your seat and started twitching—" Fred explained.

"And Professor Lupin stepped over you and walked toward the dementors and pulled out his wand," Hermione said.

"And then," Draco cut in. "He said, 'None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.' But the dementors didn't move so—"

"Lupin chased it off with a giant silvery thing!" Dean interrupted.

"It was horrible how cold it got when it entered the room," Daphne said.

Ginny, who was sitting in the corner by Fred looked nearly as bad as Harish felt and let out a sob.

"But didn't any of you—fall off your seats?" Harish asked awkwardly.

"No," George replied.

"Ginny was shaking like mad, though," Fred said.

Harish narrowed his eyes as he thought. He was fifteen years old and here he was fainting at the sight of a dementors! Why hadn't anyone else fainted? He knew that Dementors affected someone compared to how horrible their memories were, but he didn't have any bad memories that he could think of. It made perfect sense why Ginny looked so bad, remembering the horrible ordeal she went through the previous year, but it made no sense why he was affected the worst.

As he was thinking this, the train pulled to a stop. Professor Lupin ushered them out onto the platform and they all went off to get a carriage. A lantern bobbed above the heads of the students and a familiar voice shouted, "Firs' years! This way firs' years!"

The three fifth years shuddered as they recognized the owner of that voice. It was the half-giant, Hagrid, who had put the three of them in many detentions for being caught in the Forbidden Forest. When they walked across the platform to the carriages, Ginny started at the fact that they weren't being pulled by anything and everyone else got in one. Harish, Fred, George, and Draco were in one while Hermione, Daphne, and Ginny were in another. Then, the rain pelted against it as it began to roll along and wind rocked the carriage ever so slightly.

They rode up the path to the castle, pausing just outside the gates. There, by the winged boars, were another set of dementors. Harish felt a new wave of cold and nausea wash over him and he leaned back, closing his eyes until they passed. When he opened them, everyone in the carriage were looking at him in concern again. He glared at them and soon the three boys looked away. Then, seconds later the carriage bumped to a stop. Harish exited first and the others followed as he started up the stone steps of the castle. The went through the huge oak door, across the cavernous entrance hall, and through the golden doubles doors into the Great Hall.

Harish had hardly managed to glimpse the stormy ceiling before, "Blake! Granger! I want to see you both!"

Harish and Hermione turned to face Professor McGonagall, who had addressed them. Harish looked at her in mild interest and Hermione looked concerned, probably thinking that she was already in trouble somehow. "There's no need to look so worried," McGonagall said. "I just want a quick word in my office. Move along there, Malfoy."

Draco stared as the stern professor ushered Harish and Hermione away from the chattering crowd. They accompanied her across the entrance hall, up the marble staircase, and along a corridor.

Once they were in her office, Professor McGonagall motioned to the two Slytherins to sit down. She settled herself behind her desk and said abruptly, "Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead to say that you were taken ill on the train, Blake."

Harish's mouth dropped open in indignation and anger. How dare that shabby man do such a thing! He was _completely_ fine! A dozen retorts shot to the teen's tongue, but before he could utter any of them, the office door burst open and Madam Pomfrey came bustling in.

"Honestly!" he exclaimed, his face turning pink. "I'm fine!"

Pomfrey ignored him.

"You're all clammy," she said, peering closely at him. "What have you done this time?"

"It was a dementor," McGonagall replied.

They exchanged a dark look, and Madam Pomfrey clucked disapprovingly.

"Setting dementors around a school," she muttered, pushing Harish's hair back and feeling his forehead. Harish leaned away from the touch and forced all sorts of ugly looks from his face. He hated being touched. "He won't be the last one who collapses. Terrible things, they are, and the effect they have on people who are very delicate—"

"I'm not delicate!" Harish protested.

Hermione hid a laugh behind her hand and he angled a glare at her.

"Of course you're not," Pomfrey replied absentmindedly, now taking his pulse.

"What does he need?" McGonagall asked sharply. "Bed rest? Should he spend the night in the Hospital Wing?"

Harish looked at her in disbelief. "For the last time, I'm _fine_!"

"Well, he should have some chocolate, at least," the nurse said, who was now trying to peer into Harish's eyes.

"I've already had some," the fifth year replied shortly. "Professor Lupin gave me some. He gave it to all of us."

"Did he now?" Madam Pomfrey asked approvingly. "So we finally have a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies?"

"Are you sure you're all right, Blake?"

" _Yes_ ," Harish said.

"Very well. Kindly wait outside while I have a quick word with Miss Granger about her course schedule, then we can go down to the feast together."

Harish went out into the corridor with Madam Pomfrey, who left for the Hospital Wing. The impatient and slightly cranky teen only had to wait a few minutes before Hermione emerged looking rather happy. She was followed by Professor McGonagall and the three of them made their way back down the marble staircase and into the Great Hall.

At the front of the hall, Professor Flitwick was carrying an ancient hat and a three legged stool out of the Great Hall.

"Oh," Hermione said softly from behind Harish. "We've missed the sorting!"

Harish shrugged and slipped into his usual seat that was located at the center of the table. Another one had been saved for Hermione by Ginny.

"What was—"

"All that about?" the twins muttered to Harry.

Halfway through Harish's explanation, Dumbledore stood up to make his announcements. Harish was forced to lower his voice slightly as he finished his tale. Then, when he was done, food had appeared on the plates.

When Harish dug his fork into his pork chops, his eyes swept across the staff table. Then, he noticed one of his professors was missing.

"Where's Professor Kettleburn?" he asked.

"Don't you listen?" Hermione asked imperiously. Harish almost smiled. She was one of the few people that were bold enough to boss him around. "Professor Kettleburn retired. Hagrid is taking his place."

Harish's heart sank. He had liked Kettleburn. Harish looked down at a slimy green head that was poking over his shoulder. Egelbert, the trio's Clabbert, had become his pet because of one of Kettleburn's classes. Though this definitely explained why their book was a monster. Harish wondered if the half-giant would be fond of slightly more vicious monsters.

One of the girls sitting nearby leaned forward and addressed Hermione.

"So how do you feel about your father escaping Azkaban?" they asked.

Hermione nervously looked at Harish. He had informed her earlier that summer exactly why the entire house thought she was the last Black heir. Harish smiled and did a thumbs up.

"Oh, I think it's…" she trailed off her eyebrows drawing together in confusion. Harish's smiled looked more forced and he thrust the thumb up and down slightly. "A good thing?" Harish nodded, looking at her as if she was an idiot. Then Hermione understood she needed to act happy about her supposed father escaping from a high security prison. "Yes, I think it's wonderful that we might be reunited again. Did you know that he's heading here so that he can be with me again?"

All of the girls gasped dramatically. "No!"

"You don't say!"

"I do say," Hermione replied, crossing her arms and sticking her nose in the air. "It's rumored that the last thing he was heard saying was, 'She's at Hogwarts.' That just confirms that we will be together again."

Harish smirked and the twins looked at her with surprise. The pale boy had always known that she had had the cunning in her. She just simply needed to refine it slightly. Conversation carried on after that in between bites. Harish enjoyed the cooked chicken very much, though it did not compare to what Wrinkle had fixed in the past. Then, desserts appeared and everyone ate their fill.

Once the feast ended, Harish stood up to lead the first years out of the Hall. After a fleeting goodnight to Dean from the fifth year, they all went down to the dungeons. Harish's friends followed them. Once they got down in the dormitory, he wrote a letter out to his father, requesting tickets to the Quidditch World Cup, and then he went to bed. The teen, feeling like he had just fought off a bought of the flu, went to sleep very easily that night.

* * *

 **Fudge and his friends think that Sirius is after Neville, and now the idiotic, third year, Slytherin girls think he's coming to get Hermione...goodness...**

 **How do you think Sirius will react to the scheme Harish came up with to protect Hermione? How will Harish deal with having Hagrid as a teacher? To find out, R &R!**

 **~TTFN**


	47. Part 5: Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

 **And I may or may not stop with the questions in order to post quicker, but that certainly does NOT mean that I don't want you to review anymore. Now, sit back, enjoy, and review when you're done!**

* * *

 **Chapter Three: Havoc of the Hippogriffs**

The next morning Harish awoke early and went to the Great Hall for breakfast without the twins. He sat in the center of the table and served himself some food. Then, after ten minutes, the twins showed up with the rest of Harish's crew.

"You're up early," the twins said in unison as they sat on either side of their best friend.

Harish shrugged. "I guess I slept well," he replied simply.

Everyone started eating and Harish leaned back slightly as he finished his own plate. He watched conversations bounce back and forth with mild interest and Egelbert hopped along the table, snatching bananas out of students' hands. Then, Professor Snape went down the Slytherin table, handing out schedule. While Fred and George were talking about what their father had said about prisoners of Azkaban going mad, Hermione leaned over and inspected her schedule.

"Oh, look! We're starting some new classes today!"

Everyone leaned forward over her shoulders to view it. Draco looked confused, Daphne looked skeptical, and the twins' mouths fell open in shock.

"Hermione," Fred said weakly. "I think they've got your schedule wrong."

Hermione shook her head and buttered her toast.

"Look!" Draco said pointing to it. "They have her down for about ten subjects a day!"

"I already talked to Professor McGonagall about it," Hermione replied. "I've got it all worked out. Can you pass the marmalade?"

"But look!" George exclaimed. "Nine o'clock, Ancient Runes."

"Nine o'clock Arithmancy," Fred added.

" _And—Nine o'clock, Transfiguration!"_ both twins ended in disbelief.

"So my schedule is a bit full," Hermione replied. "What's it to you?"

"Hermione, there's not enough _time_ in _one day_ ," Harish finally said. Everyone nodded, as if him saying this finalized it.

 _TOO-TRUE—TOO-TRUE_

The fifth years' first class was Care of Magical Creatures, just like the year before. As the class went down to gather outside of Hagrid's hut, Harish vaguely wondered if he would be as good as Professor Kettleburn. Hagrid was waiting for them down at his hut. He wore his moleskin overcoat and a giant Boarhound, Fang, quivered at his heels.

"Come on now, get a move on!" Hagrid called to the class as they rounded the grassy hill. "Got a real treat for yeh today! Everyone here? Right, follow me!"

For one hopeful minute, Harish thought the giant man was leading them into the forest, but then he drew short and turned a corner, revealing a large paddock.

"Everyone gather 'round the fence here!" he called. "That's it—make sure yeh can see—now, firs' thing you'll need to do is open yer books."

"And how exactly do we do that?" Harish drawled.

"Eh?"

"How do we open our books?" Harish said slowly. He pulled out his copy of _Monster Book of Monsters_.

"Hasn'—hasn' anyone bin able ter open their books?" Hagrid asked, looking crestfallen.

All of the fifth years shook their heads.

"Yeh've got ter _stroke_ em," Hagrid stated as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. "Look—"

He took Harish's book from him and ripped off the rope the boy had bound it with. The book tried to bite, but Hagrid ran a giant finger down its spine, the book quivered, and then fell open. Soon, the class did as he demonstrated and he handed Harish his book back. Harish flipped through it, making sure that it wasn't going to bite him.

"Now yeh have yer books, yeh need yer Magical Creatures. So I'll go an' get 'em. Hang on…"

He strode away from them and out of sight.

"He doesn't seem to know what he's doing does he?" Harish asked the twins quietly.

"What're those?" a Ravenclaw asked suddenly.

The trio turned to see Hagrid leading several bizarre creatures towards them. They had bodies, hind legs, and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings, and heads of what seemed to be giant eagles. The talons on the front legs were a foot long and deadly looking. Each of the beasts had a thick leather collar around its neck, which was attached to a chain.

Hagrid trotted up there and tethered them to the paddock.

"Hippogriffs!" he roared happily, waving a wand at them. "Beau'iful, aren't they?"

Harish could kind of see what the giant man meant. Once one got over the giant talons and beady eyes, they would be able to appreciate the hippogriffs' gleaming fathers.

"So," Hagrid said, rubbing his hands together and beaming around, "if yeh wan' ter come a bit nearer—" No one seemed to want to, but the giant man didn't seem to notice. "Now firs' thing yeh gotta know about hippogriffs is they're proud. Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don't ever insult one 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do. Yeh always wait fer the hippogriff to make the firs' move…"

The man continued on how to approach the hippogriffs and how to get one to let you come near. Then, he finally said, "Right—who wants ter go first?"

All of the class backed up slightly, Harish included. Those creatures might have looked interesting and a little bit cool, but Harish did not have a death wish.

"No one?" Hagrid pleaded.

Either out of sudden boldness or pity for their new professor, a Ravenclaw stepped tentatively forward.

"Good lad!" Hagrid said, clapping the boy on the back so hard it made his knees buckle. Then, he helped the boy come up to the hippogriff. Once the boy was seated firmly on the beast's back, everyone else was allowed to pair up with a hippogriff. Harish and the twins went and stood over towards a dappled, gray one. Harish bowed low to it and waited for a moment. Then, the creature bowed in return on one knee. Harish then nervously stepped forward and touched its beak.

When it didn't seem to mind, Harish started rubbing it.

"You're a fine thing, aren't you?" he asked.

The hippogriff tossed its head in agreement. Harish then swung himself onto the beast's back. George stood down in front of it, petting its beak now. Then, he slipped a yellow sweet out of his pocket. The creature sniffed at it with interest.

"You want it?" George asked.

The hippogriff tossed its head.

"Alright," George replied.

He held it out in the palm of his hand and the hippogriff gulped it down. Then, its eye widened and suddenly it reared back. Harish, who had no idea what was going on, clung on for dear life as the hippogriff ripped through the chain it was tethered with and flew off.

Fred and George ran desperately after it until it took off into the air. When it did, they ran back and grabbed two hippogriffs of their own.

"Oi!" Hagrid shouted, but they couldn't hear him, even as he bellowed and waved his arms back and forth. The three boys were all flying away from their class.

In textbooks, the flight of the hippogriff might be described as graceful or calm, but this flight was far from that. It was evident that whatever George fed that bird, it contain a high amount of caffeine. Within a minute, it was flying in circles, blasting by trees, and soaring through archways. But, even with all the chaos, Harish loved it. It was thrilling. The wind rushed past his ears in a roar, ruffling his hair.

After a few minutes, he heard faint shouting coming from behind him. The teen glanced back and saw Fred and George on hippogriffs, flying after him. Then, the twins started shouting louder, and waving their arms. Harish was slightly confused, but he turned around. It was then that he saw that the beast he was on was flying at very fast speeds straight towards the astronomy tower. Harish yelled and dug his knees into it, making it go even faster.

Then, the twins flew up underneath him and he jumped off, onto George's hippogriff. When they touched back down, Hagrid was very angry. He assigned the three of them extra essays on hippogriffs and stomped off to retrieve the one Harish had jumped from, which had swerved out of the way in the last second and started flying in loops.

 _UH-OH—POOR-BUCKBEAK_

"How do we get up?" Ron asked, gazing around, trying to figure out how to get into their Divination classroom. He, Neville, and the other Gryffindors were gathered on a platform, ready for their first class.

Just then, the trapdoor opened and a silvery ladder descended right at the boy's feet. Everyone got quiet. Then, Ron climbed up it, followed by the rest of the class.

They emerged into the strangest classroom in all of Hogwarts. In fact, it didn't look like a classroom at all but more like a cross between an old attic and Madam Puddifoot's tea shop down in Hogsmeade. At least twenty round tables were crammed into the room, each one surrounded by a number of poufs and chintz armchairs. Everything was lit with a dim crimson light; the curtains were a dark red and scarlet scarves draped over all of the lamps. It was stiflingly hot, and the fire that was burning in the fireplace was giving off a sickly sweet perfume that was very strong. There were shelves lining the circular walls full of an assortment of quills, large glass balls, packs of playing cards, old candle stubs and a wide array of different teacups. All of it combined created a very sleepy atmosphere, and Ron couldn't help yawning.

"Where's Professor Trelawney?" Parvati Patil whispered. The room had a whole feel to it that was similar to a library.

A voice suddenly came out of the shadows, a soft misty sort of voice.

"Welcome," it said. "How nice it is to see you all in the physical world at last."

As she spoke, nearly everyone jumped out of their skins. Professor Trelawney emerged from the shadows. She was just as odd as her classroom was. The professor was very thin and her eyes were magnified to ten times their regular size by a pair of large, round glasses. She was draped in many shawls. Innumerable beads hung from her thin neck and bangles and rings adorned her hands.

"Welcome to Divination," the professor said in hardly a whisper. "My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me much because I find that leaving my tower and joining the regular hustle and bustle of the rest of the castle clouds my Inner Eye."

No one said a word to this peculiar announcement. Trelawney seated herself in a winged armchair and indicated for the class to do the same. She delicately arranged her shawl and continued, _"So you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you. Books can take you only so far in this field…_ It is a gift granted to very few. You, boy," she said suddenly to Neville. "Is your grandmother well?"

"Yeah…" he mumbled, sounding somewhat confused.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that if I were you, dear," she replied, the firelight glinting on her long emerald earrings. "We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear," she said to Parvati. "Beware red haired men." Parvati glanced at Ron before scooting her chair away. "In the second term," Professor Trelawney went on, "we shall progress to the crystal ball—if we have finished fire omens, that is. Unfortunately classes will be disrupted in March by a nasty bout of flu. I myself will lose my voice. I wonder, dear, if you could pass me that teapot?"

Lavender Brown stood up, took an enormous teapot from the shelf, and put it on the table in front of the batty Professor. Trelawney then spoke again, this time to her. _"Thank you, my dear. Incidentally, that thing you are dreading—it will happen on Friday the sixteenth of October. Now I want you all to divide into pairs. Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for the last of the tea to drain out, then give your cup to your partner for them to decipher._ You will use pages five and six of Unfogging the Future to interpret the tea leaves. Oh, and dear," She caught Neville's arm as he made to stand up. "After you've broken your first cup, can you use a blue one instead? I rather like the pink ones."

Ron sighed and stood up, following Neville. They got their cups and sure enough, Neville broke the first one. Then, after Neville got a new cup, they sat down and drank their tea until only the dregs remained, as instructed. They swilled them and then swapped cups.

After they opened their books to pages five and six, Neville asked Ron, "Alright, what can you see in mine?"

"A load of brown soggy stuff," the boy replied yawning. The room was making him feel very stupid and sleepy.

"How about I do yours?" Neville asked. Ron nodded, yawning. "Well, you've got a sort of crooked cross…" he consulted his book to see what that meant. "That means you're going to have trials and suffering?—Yeah that's right—But, that looks like the sun, which I think is happiness. So you're going to suffer…but you'll be happy about it."

"You need your Inner Eye tested, if you ask me," Ron muttered and they both had to stifle their laughter as Trelawney gazed in their direction.

 _SUFFER-HAPPILY—RON_

After the fiasco in Care of Magical Creatures, the fifth year Slytherins went to Transfiguration sore and dusty. Harish chose a seat towards the back and the twins sat on either side of him. Then, Professor McGonagall came into the room as the bell rang.

"As you know," She said grimly, "Your OWL's are coming up this year. You cannot pass an OWL without serious application, practice, and study. I see no reason why everyone in this class should not gain an OWL in Transfiguration as long as they put in the work. So…today we are starting Vanishing Spells. These are easier than Conjuring Spells, which you would not usually attempt until NEWT level, but they are still among the most difficult magic you will be tested on in your OWL."

She was right. The Vanishing Spell was—slightly difficult. It took Harish several tries to manage to perform it and the twins still hadn't vanished their snails by the end of the class. George sadly poked his snail with his wand, mumbling about how it looked slightly paler. But, he was not the only one who hadn't managed to vanish his snail. In fact, Harish was the only one that actually _did_. Once again, he was the only one not given homework; everyone else was told to practice the spell overnight and be ready for a fresh attempt on the spell the following afternoon.

At lunch, all of the fifth years were doing some sort of homework. Harish finished up his essay on hippogriffs, The twins lazily flicked their wands while they ate, practicing for Transfiguration. The Gryffindors were all working hard, looking up the uses of moonstone for Potions. By the time they had Herbology, Harish's head was aching.

In that class, they got the same spiel about OWL's and studying. Harish shook his head sadly. It looked like he would actually have to work hard this year.

 _WORK?!—IT'S-THE-END-OF-THE-WORLD!_

The third year Slytherins went to their first class of Defense Against the Dark Arts of the year while the fifth years were in Herbology. Professor Lupin wasn't in the classroom when they first arrived. They all sat down, took out their books, quills, and parchment, and were talking when he finally arrived. Lupin smiled vaguely, looking just as shabby as he had on the train. He set down his tattered briefcase on the desk and then turned to address them.

"Good afternoon," he said. "Would you please put all your books back in your bags? Today's lesson will be a practical one. You will need only your wands."

The Slytherins exchanged curious looks. They had never had any practical lessons before. From what they heard, the Gryffindors had had one the previous year, but it had been a disaster. Still, Hermione, Draco, and Daphne pulled their wands out.

"Right then," Lupin said once everyone was ready. "If you'd follow me, then."

Puzzled but interested, the class got to its feet and followed Lupin out of the room. He led them along an empty corridor, around a corner, and through the nearest door. Inside was a paneled room full of old, mismatched chairs. The room was completely empty. After the class had filed in, Lupin shut the door behind them.

"Now, then," he said, walking to stand in front of the wardrobe in the corner. "I will need a volunteer."

Hermione shot her hand up instantly while everyone else stood looking around. Lupin waited a moment to be sure no one else wanted to volunteer. After a second, Theodore Nott slowly put his hand up. Then, he said, "All right then, Mr. Nott. If you would come and stand up here please?"

As the boy stopped beside him, the wardrobe rattled rather violently. Draco jumped and whimpered, causing a bemused look from Daphne and Hermione.

"Nothing to worry about," Lupin said calmly. "There's a boggart in there. Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces. Wardrobes, underneath beds, the cupboards under sinks—I once met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. _This_ one moved in this morning, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave to give my third years some practice. So, can anyone tell me what a boggart _is_?"

Hermione's hand shot up once again.

"Miss Granger?" Lupin called.

"It's a shape shifter," she stated. "It can take shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," Professor Lupin replied, causing Hermione to glow with pride. "So the boggart sitting in the darkness has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears. This means that we have a huge advantage over it. Why? Miss Greengrass?"

Daphne put her hand back down and replied, "There will be so many of us, it won't know what shape to assume."

"Precisely," Lupin replied. "It's always best to have company when dealing with a boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become? A headless corpse of a flesh eating slug? I once saw a boggart make that mistake—he tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into a headless slug. Not remotely frightening.

"The charm that repels a boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a boggart is _laughter_. What you need to do is to force it to assume a shape you find amusing. We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please… _Riddikulus!_ "

" _Riddikulus!_ " the class chanted together.

"Good," Lupin said. "Very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Mr. Nott."

The wardrobe shook again.

"Right, Mr. Nott. What would you say frightens you the most?"

"The Grim," Theo replied in hardly a whisper.

Lupin bit back a chuckle. It wasn't uncommon to be afraid of it, as it was an omen of death, but it was slightly amusing. "The Grim, huh? Well…could you think of something that would make a Grim funny?" Theo shook his head. "No, well, can you picture a Chihuahua?"

Theo nodded.

"Well, when the boggart bursts out of the wardrobe, Mr. Nott, and sees you, it will assume the form of a Grim. You will raise your wand—thus—and cry _'Riddikulus'_ —and concentrate hard on that Chihuahua. If all goes well, it should turn into one."

A few people giggled, causing the wardrobe to shake more violently. Lupin had the rest of the class back away, and then he opened the wardrobe. Then, out came a large black dog, the size of a bear. Its fur was shaggy, its eyes were wild, its teeth were bared. You could practically see the hairs stand up on the back of Theo's neck as he froze in fright.

" _R-R-Riddikulus_!" he cried.

There was a noise like a whip crack and in a blink of an eye, the large black dog had transformed into a small, shaking Chihuahua that was wearing a pink tutu. Laughter rang through the room and Lupin motioned for the next person to step forward.

* * *

 **Gotta love Lupin!**

 **R &R!**

 **~TTFN**


	48. Part 5: Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...**

* * *

 **Chapter Four: Of Grims and Break-ins**

Later in that week, Sirius Black was spotted. Other than that, the week passed in a monotony of more complex work and studying. In all years and all houses, Defense Against the Dark Arts had suddenly became everyone's favorite class. Lupin was the best professor Hogwarts had had in over a decade. They covered real spells and creatures, with practical lessons at least once a week.

Then, in October, Flint started holding Quidditch practices. Harish was glad, for this made his days more enjoyable and gave him an excuse not to do homework. They had training sessions three times a week. As the season progressed, it got colder and wetter. One evening, Harish returned to the common room stiff and cold, to find that everyone was talking excitedly.

"What is going on?" Harish asked Daphne and Hermione.

"Our first Hogsmeade weekend!" Hermione replied pointing to the notice board.

"It was put up after lunch," Daphne added. "It's going to be at the end of October."

"Halloween," Hermione said.

"Excellent," said Fred from behind Harish. "I need to visit Zonko's. I'm nearly out of Stink Pellets."

"What do you need Stink Pellets for?" Hermione asked.

"You wouldn't want to know," George replied, walking up.

The three boys said quick goodbyes before heading downstairs to put up their brooms. They never kept them in the broom cupboards, for fear of someone tampering with them.

"So are you looking forward to this particular Hogsmeade weekend?" Fred asked.

"Why?" Harish asked, opening his trunk. "It won't be all that different from the other visits."

"Except for the fact that a certain third year can go now," George said, sitting on his bed and stowing his broom underneath it.

Harish's face grew hot.

"I do _not_ know what you mean," he said.

 _AWWW—HE-BE-LYING!_

In Divination, a week before Halloween, Harish was wishing that the Hogsmeade weekend would be later. Ever since the twins had talked to him, he had been worrying about asking Daphne out. He knew that he really did like the third year, but he was afraid she would turn him down. So, he had been worrying about it non-stop, trying to find a good opportunity to ask her.

Professor Trelawney passed by their table. Harish stopped staring out the window and looked at George's tea leaves. They had been reviewing cup reading that week before they moved on to the meaning of dreams.

"What do you see in my cup?" he asked Fred.

Fred turned the cup slightly before saying, "Well this here looks like an acorn, which means a windfall of unexpected gold. Excellent, you can lend us some…and this here," he turned the cup again. "looks like an animal…yeah that's a head…it looks like a bear…no a sheep…"

Trelawney swirled around as Harish bit back a snort. It was a bit pathetic that the boy couldn't tell what animal the leaves looked like.

"Let me see that," she said. The students at the tables nearby stopped to watch as she rotated the cup.

"The falcon…my dear, you have a deadly enemy."

Was it sad that Harish's mind immediately jumped to Professor Dumbledore?

"The club…an attack. Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup…"

Everyone was staring, transfixed, at the professor who gave the cup a final turn, gasped, and then screamed.

"My dear boy…my poor, dear boy…no…it is kinder not to say…"

Harish felt a vein in his forehead tick in annoyance. Whatever she saw in his cup, she was _way_ over dramatizing it.

"What is it?" he asked impatiently.

Everyone had gotten up and crowded around to see his cup.

"My dear," Trelawney replied dramatically, her eyes wide, "you have the Grim."

 _DRAMATIC-PAUSE_

Everyone was still talking about Grims when they went down for lunch. Honestly, Harish thought that the fact that Grims preceded death was just a superstition. Still, if he was going to die, he might as well ask Daphne out while he still had a chance.

The twins were talking about their Uncle Bilius who had died after seeing a Grim when Draco, Hermione, and Daphne sat down.

"Why are we talking about Grims?" Hermione asked.

"Harish saw one in his cup in Divination," the twins replied in unison.

"Technically I didn't see it," he specified. "Trelawney did."

"It was still there!" Fred said. "I saw it!"

"You thought it was a bear," Harish said.

"They do look similar."

Harish shook his head.

"I think that all of that stuff is just a superstition," Hermione replied. "Chances are, people just die from fright when they see them."

The twins were mortified when she said this. As they argued, Harish looked across the table to see Daphne shaking her head at them, half laughing. Harish looked at her for a moment before glancing at the others. They seemed busy.

"Uh, Daphne," he said nervously.

She turned to him, her smile still on her face. Harish liked that smile.

"Yes?" she asked.

"I was wondering," Harish said, pausing as his cheeks flushed. "I was wondering if you wanted to come to Hogsmeade with me…I mean, just the two of us."

Daphne looked shocked. Unbeknownst to either of them, the twins froze mid argument and started listening. Daphne's cheeks tinged pink and she replied, her smile even wider, "Yeah, that would be nice."

"Really?" Harish asked. Now it was his turn to look shocked.

"Yeah," she replied shyly.

They both smiled at their plates. Across from George, Draco huffed and pulled five galleons out of his pocket and handed it to the twins. George pulled out a clipboard and scratched out Draco's name. Beside it were scrawled the words 'seventh/fifth year'. Fred crossed out Hermione's name as he was handed one galleon. Beside her name was 'fourth/sixth year.' Then, everyone who hadn't written 'third/fifth year' started digging money out of their pockets. When it got out that Harish had asked Daphne Greengrass to Hogsmeade, people from other houses started chipping in as well. By the end of the month, the twins had added nearly another hundred galleons to their joke shop funds.

On Halloween, Harish and Daphne both got ready and met each other in the common room. Then, they went down to the village together.

"Where do you want to go?" Harish asked.

"Um…How about the Three Broomsticks?" she suggested.

Harish nodded and they walked there together, but drew short when they reached the pub. On the door was a wanted poster with a picture of Sirius Black on it.

"Do you really think he'll come here?" Daphne asked.

Harish nodded. "I think it is a high probability."

"Isn't it ridiculous that the Ministry hasn't found him yet?" she asked as they entered the pub.

Harish nodded once again. "My father is annoyed. He says that the Ministry has deteriorated greatly ever since Fudge came into office."

"He is a bit…inept."

Harish snorted. "That he is," he said. "And he is more likely to turn on his own when he is threatened. He is too comfortable in his position. He doesn't accept that anything can happen while he is in power."

Daphne nodded.

Rosmerta, the rather pretty bartender walked up to take their order.

"Two butterbeers, please," Harish said, laying some gold down on the table.

Rosmerta nodded and walked off. The couple sat in silence for a minute until the woman returned with their drinks. Then, they took sips of their drink.

"You know," Daphne said after a moment. "Your father should run for Minister of Magic."

Harish shook his head. "He doesn't want to be Minister. He just wants to get people to accept how corrupt our society is becoming."

Daphne nodded. A half-smile tugged at Harish's cheeks. This was one of the main reasons he liked Daphne as a person so much. As her family was neutral, she was able to talk about her opinions about the wizarding world and no one would think twice about it. She didn't have to like Voldemort, but she didn't have to like Dumbledore.

She was also the one person he could talk politics with. Draco thought they were boring, and no one else knew enough about them to have major opinions. Once Daphne finished her drink, Harish stood up.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go have a look at the Shrieking Shack."

Daphne set her mug down and allowed Harish to help her up. Then, she followed him out into the sunlight. They walked the path down to the Shrieking Shack. It was one of the oldest buildings in the village, and it had been rumoured to be haunted. The couple stopped at a fence and looked at it.

"You know," He told the third year. "Some say the Shrieking Shack used to be haunted."

"Used to?"

"Yeah. One of the villagers told me that there used to be howling coming from the Shack."

"Do you know everyone?" Daphne asked with a laugh.

"Yeah," Harish replied. "One of the perks of being me."

Daphne shook her head and laughed again.

"You really are silly sometimes."

"Of course I am," Harish replied. "I hang out with the twins after all."

"Yes. Speaking of, where are they?" Daphne asked. "I half expected them to be stalking us."

"They are at Zonko's, I think," Harish replied, turned around and leaning back to look around a couple trees. "At least, that's where they went first. They may be stalking us now."

Daphne rolled her eyes.

"Well, if you find out that they are, give them a nice punch for me."

"Do you want to head back?" the fifth year asked. "The feast may be starting soon."

"That sounds fine with me. Could we stop by Honeydukes first, though? I was hoping to get some sweets there. I've heard they are really good."

"They are," the teen replied.

So, they stopped at Honeydukes long enough to buy a bag of chocolates to share along with several other trick sweets. The shop was somewhat empty as most everyone were returning to the castle. Then, the two of them headed for Hogwarts.

They went straight to the feast together. The twins, Ginny, Hermione, and Harish were all already there with a seat in the middle saved for Harish and a seat across from him saved for Daphne. Some people turned and whispered when they entered together, but they didn't really mind. Most people gossiped when _anyone_ started dating.

They sat down and Harish put the bag of chocolate in between him and his girlfriend so that they could finish them up. They talked about the Shrieking Shack with the others as well as a number of other topics. Halfway through the feast skeletons danced through the Great Hall and then after the desserts, more entertainment was provided by the ghosts. They popped out of walls and tables to do a formation of gliding; Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, had a great success with a re-enactment of his own botched beheading.

The Gryffindors enjoyed it as well. Even Neville, who hadn't been allowed to go to Hogsmeade because of Sirius Black. After the feast ended, they walked up to Gryffindor tower, but when they reached the corridor where the Fat Lady was located, they found it jammed with students.

"Why isn't anyone going in?" Ron asked curiously.

Neville craned his neck, peering over the heads in front him. It didn't look like the portrait had been opened.

"Let me through please," came Percy's, Ron's brother's, voice. He came bustling through the crowd importantly. "What's the holdup here? You can't all have forgotten the password—excuse me, I'm Head Boy—"

Then, the crowd fell silent, from the front first, and then down the rest of the corridor. They heard Percy say suddenly in a completely different voice, "Somebody get Professor Dumbledore, quick."

"What's going on?" Ron asked.

Someone turned around and replied, "The fat lady's gone."

 _UH-OH—IT'S-SIRIUS-BLACK_

Everyone was tired from all the sweets and food they ate. They trudged slowly down to the dungeons. Then, as soon as they entered their common room, Snape walked in.

"I need you all to return to the Great Hall. Prefects—make sure _everyone_ gets there," he said before sweeping out of the room.

"Why are we going back?" Harish demanded, but no one seemed to know the answer. They just did as they were told and trudged all the way _back_ up to the Great Hall, Harish grumpily herding everyone. As soon as they were out of the dungeons, they were joined by the Hufflepuffs, and then the Ravenclaws appeared outside the Great Hall.

Once they entered, Dumbledore told them, "Sirius Black is loose in the castle. The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search. I am afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want four of the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am appointing the Head Boy and Head Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately. Send word with one of the ghosts." The dotty old headmaster paused, about to leave the hall and said, "Oh, yes, you'll be needing…"

He waved his wand lazily and the long tables flew to the edges of the hall and the floor was covered in hundreds of squashy purple sleeping bags. Dumbledore called up the two Prefects from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, and the other four were told to remain behind and watch the students in the Hall.

"Sleep well," Dumbledore said, closing the door behind him.

The hall was silent for only a moment before everyone started whispering excitedly. The Gryffindors told the rest of the school what had happened.

"Everyone into their sleeping bags!" Percy shouted. "Come on, no more talking! Lights out in ten minutes."

Harish and his friends chose sleeping bags near the door. Harish slept in between the twins. Hermione and Daphne slept above them and Draco and Dean slept below them. Neville and Ron slept near Dean and all the other Gryffindors beyond that. Luna got a sleeping bag by Ginny and the rest of the Ravenclaws went in that direction. Then, the Hufflepuffs all pulled their sleeping bags into a huddle near the Ravenclaws.

"Do you think Black is still in the castle?" Hermione asked.

"Possibly," Harish replied. "The question is, how did he get in?"

"Maybe he knows how to Apparate," a Ravenclaw nearby said. "Just appear out of thin air, you know."

"Disguised himself probably," said a Hufflepuff fifth year.

"He could've flown in," Dean suggested.

"Honestly, am I the only one who has read _Hogwarts: A History_?" Hermione asked crossly.

"Probably," Harish and the twins replied together. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Why?" Draco questioned.

"Because the castle is protected by more than _walls_ , you know," Hermione supplied. "There are all sorts of enchantments on it, to stop people entering by stealth. You can't just Apparate in here. And I'd like to see _anyone_ who could get past the dementors in a mere disguise. They are guarding all of the entrances on the grounds. They would have seen him fly in too…"

"The lights are going out now!" Percy shouted. "I want everyone in their sleeping bags and no more talking!"

The candles all blew out at once. In the light of the ghosts, the twins both shot Harish a look. Using the marauder's map, they knew that there were at least three passageways that Filch didn't know about. There was no way he had gotten in through Honeydukes, but he could have gotten in through the pathway that runs underneath the Whomping Willow. There was always the fact that the tree was insane and you couldn't even use charms to immobilize it, but it was still a possibility. And, chances were, they were the only ones that knew about it. Harish sighed and rolled over, closing his eyes.

* * *

 **Don't forget to read more and review the most!**

 **~TTFN**


	49. Part 5: Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Five: Werewolves and Animaguses**

As the Fat Lady was so shaken from her encounter with Sirius Black, they had found a new portrait to take her place. As it turns out, the new portrait was Sir Cadogan. He was absolutely insane. The pompous knight changed the password twice a day, not to mention the fact that he often challenged everyone to duels so that they could get inside. But, he was there to stay; at least until the Fat Lady's painting had been repaired.

The Quidditch match was coming up and their three day practices had become a practice every day of the week except Sundays. It was going to be between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Tensions were running high and nerves even higher. Not to mention Hermione bursting into tears before breakfast one morning.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" Fred had asked.

"She's lost her cat," Daphne replied.

"Crookshanks," Ginny said.

"He's been missing for a week!"

"I'm sure he's fine!" Fred said. "Maybe you should put up missing signs."

Hermione perked up.

"I hadn't thought of that!" she exclaimed. "Oh, thank you, Fred!"

"Er, your welcome?" Fred replied.

"Problem solved!" George exclaimed, throwing an arm around his twin's shoulder. "Now, let's go get our bags. Charms starts soon."

"Oh," Hermione said to Daphne and Draco. "We probably need to get going too."

"Yeah, wouldn't want to be late," Draco replied sarcastically.

So, they went to their Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. They were expecting to see Lupin, as he was their professor, so they were slightly shocked when it wasn't he that was at his desk, but Professor Snape.

"Where's Professor Lupin?" Hermione asked curiously.

"He says he is too ill to teach today," Snape replied with a twisted smile.

Once the class had filed in, Snape stood and said, "Today we shall discuss werewolves."

"But sir," Hermione said. "We're not supposed to start learning about werewolves for weeks. We only just finished learning about hinkypunks."

"Miss Granger," Snape said. "I am teaching this lesson. Your year is far behind where you should be. Therefore, I thought I might test you with more difficult material. I need you all to turn to page 394."

Everyone pulled out their books and flipped to the proper page.

"Which of you can tell me what the difference is between a werewolf and an animagus?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air.

"Miss Granger?"

"An animagus is a person who can transform into an animal form. They are not always wolves or dogs either. Also, the animagus can chose to change form when the werewolf has no choice."

"Correct. Five points to Slytherin."

Snape went on to explain the difference between a werewolf and a regular wolf. Then, he had them read about how to recognize a werewolf. Hermione finished the reading first and then sat back, mulling the information over. One of the ways to recognize a werewolf, was that they have more dog like tendencies (though dog Animaguses do as well). Werewolves, even when in human form, like rare meats. Also, they would disappear once a month to transform. In fact, now that she thought about it, their very own Professor Lupin fit the criteria for being a werewolf. He was always sick once a month, and he had wolf like tendencies. Hermione pulled her calendar out of her bag and checked the days he had been missing from the dinner table or class. Each of them fell on a full moon. Hermione put a hand up to her mouth in shock. Then she glanced around. No one had noticed. She figured that she should keep to herself about this. Her theory may not even be correct.

 _HERMIONE—BRIGHTEST-WITCH-IN-HER-YEAR_

Ron and Neville sat in the Gryffindor common room. They were sitting at a table near a window, doing homework. Ron's rat, Scabbers, was quivering in the front pocket of his shirt. Ever since their trip to Egypt, Scabbers hadn't been looking very well. Where he used to be fat and sleek, he was now thin with little clumps of fur falling out.

Neville was afraid that Scabbers might die soon. He had never shown any qualities of a magical rat, so if he was just a regular one, he would be getting pretty old. Just then, an enormous ginger cat stalked into the common room.

"Who's cat is this?" Parvati cooed, petting him.

The cat purred, rubbing its face on her hand. Then, its beady eyes caught on Ron's front pocket. It seemed to sense the rat that was there. It stood there allowing itself to be petted. Seconds later, there was a loud MREEOW! And the cat had launched itself onto Ron's chest.

Ron tried to wrench it off, but it scrabbled at his shirt with its claws. Then, Neville helped him get the cat off. He took it outside the portrait and dropped it there.

"Who's cat was _that_?" Ron asked in disgust.

 _EVIL-CAT—STINKY-CAT—GO-A-WAY_

Sirius had finally made it to Hogwarts. Though he was quite annoyed that the Fat Lady wouldn't let him in, he had fled the castle and hidden in the Shrieking Shack. He knew he had to leave on the full moon, so he had traveled to Hogsmeade in dog form. There he nicked some food and saw hundreds of students leave the castle together. Sirius cocked his head and sniffed a little. Then, he followed them.

All of the students went into the Quidditch pitch. Sirius guessed that this meant that there was a Quidditch match that day. So, he naturally hopped into the stands. Harry would surely been on the Quidditch team, because of his father. He had shown a love for riding the broom before…Sirius shook his head, much like shaking water off of his ears. He waited and then the two teams came out onto the pitch, Gryffindor and Slytherin. Sirius searched the Gryffindors, but he couldn't pick Harry out.

They took off, and one Slytherin boy, the Seeker no doubt, flew close by, scanning the entire stadium. Then, as their eyes caught both of them nearly fell over. Sirius recognized the shape of Lily's eyes from there. It was Harry. His eyes were paler than they used to be, and so was his hair. Though it was more of a shade of brown instead of black, Sirius still recognized James's trademark messy hair. Also, if you looked for it, you could find Lily's features in Harry's nose and jaw as well. Sirius didn't know what to think as he trotted out of the stadium…Harry was a Slytherin.

Harish nearly fell off his broom when he saw an enourmous black dog. It was the Grim. The fifth year glanced back at the stadium, but the Grim was gone. As it was the second Grim Harish had seen, he was shaken slightly. So, he zoomed off and searched for the Snitch.

The wind was blowing in full blasts now, bringing rain in with it. Harish was having a difficult time trying to stay on course. If the crowd was cheering, he couldn't hear it over the thunder. Luckily, he had already cast a spell to keep the rain off of his face so that he could see, but the rest of him was completely soaked through.

Suddenly a strange feel came over the stadium. The wind was blasting Harish off course, but it had suddenly forgotten to howl. Lightning was still flashing, illuminating the stands, but the thunder had forgotten to clap. It felt as if he had gone deaf. A chill swept over Harish as he looked down and saw hundreds of dementors standing on the ground below him, their hidden faces pointed to the sky.

It felt as if frozen water was filling and freezing Harish's insides. And then he heard it again…Someone was screaming, screaming inside his head…a woman…

" _Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"_

" _Stand aside, girl…stand aside now…"_

" _Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—"_

Numbing, swirling white fog filled Harish's brain. He might have wondered who this woman and more specifically who Harry was, but he was no longer conscious enough to wonder anything of the sort. He was falling, falling through the icy mist.

" _Not Harry! Please…have mercy…have mercy…"_

A shrill voice was laughing, the woman was screaming, and Harish knew no more.

"He looks a bit peaky."

"Peaky? How would you look if you fell ten stories?"

"Lucky the ground was so soft."

"I thought he was dead for sure."

It took a moment for Harish to make sense of anything as he could hear the voices of his friends.

"That was the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life."

Scariest…the scariest thing…hooded black figures…cold…screaming…

Harish's eyes snapped open. He was lying in a hospital bed with the entire Quidditch team standing around him, soaked and mud spattered. Hermione, Daphne, and Ginny were there as well, looking as though they had just climbed out of the Black Lake.

"Harish!" Fred exclaimed. He looked extremely white underneath all the mud. "How're you feeling?"

It was as though Harish's memory was on fast forward. The lightning—the Grim—the Snitch—and the dementors…

"What happened?" he asked, sitting up so suddenly they all gasped.

"You fell off," Fred replied. "Must've been—what—fifty feet?"

"We thought you'd died," Daphne said. She was shaking and her eyes were extremely bloodshot.

"I know I _fell_. I meant the match. Who won?"

No one answered. Everyone just looked down and shuffled their feet. The horrible truth sank into Harish like a stone in water.

"We did _not_ —? We _lost_?"

"The other Seeker got the Snitch," George replied. "Just after you fell. He didn't realize what had happened. When he realized that you had fallen, he tried to call it off, but they had won fair and square."

Harish rested his head on his knees and gripped his head with his hands. He had never lost before. In all four _years_ he had been playing, they hadn't lost once.

"Don't worry, Harish," George said shaking Harish's shoulder. "It's not over. As long as Gryffindor loses to Ravenclaw and we beat them and Hufflepuff the cup'll be ours."

Harish sat back and tried his best not to feel absolutely miserable. After about ten minutes of the others talking, Madam Pomfrey told the others to let him rest, so everyone except the twins and Draco left.

"Dumbledore was really angry," Draco said. "I have never seen him like that before. He ran onto the field as you fell and kind of slowed you down before you hit the ground. Then, he whirled his wand toward the dementors and shot silvery stuff at them, making them go away."

"Then he magicked you onto a stretcher—" Fred said.

"And sent you up to school. Everyone thought you were…"

George's voice trailed off, but Harish hardly noticed. He was thinking about what the dementors had done to him. No one else had obviously fainted. Why was he the only one that was affected so much? Not to mention the woman screaming…He didn't even have any bad memories that he could think of. That woman screaming certainly wasn't one of them.

"Did someone get my Nimbus?" he asked finally.

The twins and Draco glanced at each other. Harish noticed that George was holding an odd shaped bundle.

"Well…" George said hesitantly. "When you fell off—"

"It got blown away."

"And?"

"And it hit," Draco replied. "It hit the—Whomping Willow."

Harish's insides froze again. The Whomping Willow was a particularly vicious tree that had nearly killed him the year before. It doesn't exactly like things getting near it.

"Professor Flitwick brought it back just before you woke up," George said, laying the bundle on Harish's bed. He unwrapped the blankets to reveal several huge shards of wood and more bristles. Harish picked up one where the golden words _"Nimbus 2001"_ were etched. They were all that was left of his faithful broomstick.

* * *

 **Poor Harish feels even worse about the dementors now...**

 **R &R&TTFN!**


	50. Part 5: Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...**

* * *

 **Chapter Six: Questions…Too Many Questions**

Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping Harish in the Hospital Wing for the rest of the weekend. Harish didn't complain like he usually would have. He was too upset. Humiliated and annoyed at himself for fainting every time he got near a dementor, downtrodden about his broom, he wouldn't let the nurse throw away the shards of it. He had never broken one before, and it felt like losing a friend.

It was a huge relief when he finally had to return to the bustle of school on Monday. But, he was determined that he would never lose a Quidditch game again. So, any free time was devoted to studying up on patronus charms. He taught himself how to perform it, but had still not managed to produce a corporeal patronus.

Professor Lupin had returned by their next Defense Against the Dark Arts class. After class, Lupin held Harish back. Now Lupin was just as close to James and Lily as Sirius was. If anything, he was closer to Lily than the dog animagus ever was. Because of this, he had instantly recognized the shape of Lily's eyes. This had instantly sparked the werewolf's curiosity. Ever since then, he had been wanting a chance to talk to the boy.

"Yes, professor?" Harish asked awkwardly.

"I heard about your broom. Is there no chance of repairing it?"

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "It flew into the Whomping Willow."

"The Whomping Willow was planted the year I started at Hogwarts," Lupin told him. "Students used to try to get close to it until it took out Davey Gudgeon's eye and they were banned from going near it. No broom would stand a chance."

"Did you hear about the dementors too?" Harish asked, not looking at the professor.

"Yes, I did. Dumbledore was furious…They were the reason you fell, I suppose?"

"Yes," Harish replied. He hesitated for a moment until all of his questions burst out at once. " _Why?_ Why do they affect me so much? Am I just—"

"It has nothing to do with weakness," Lupin replied sharply. "There must be some sort of horror in your past. Dementors affect you according to how bad your memories are. They feed on your good ones and leave you with your worst memories."

"I already knew _that_ ," Harish said. "It's just…I don't have any bad memories. Not that bad anyway. I've wracked my brain trying to figure it out but…it's useless. And—whenever they get near me…I hear this voice—a woman's voice."

Lupin's stomach plummeted. He thought he might know where this was going.

"What does this voice say?" he asked warily.

"She's pleading. It's horrible. I can't help but hear it. This woman pleading for her son's life."

"Her son?"

"I'm guessing it's her son. She keeps trying to protect…Harry. Harry's his name."

 _GETTING-WARMER_

Two weeks before the end of the term, the sky lightened to a stunning white and the muddy grounds were covered in frost. Inside the castle, there was a buzz of Christmas in the air. Flitwick had already decorated his classroom with shimmering lights that turned out to be real, fluttering fairies. The students were discussing their plans for Christmas.

Harish was intending on inviting everyone over to his manor over the break. All of his immediate friends were sending letters back and forth to their parents, asking to stay there. Draco had already been over so much, his parents had no problem with it. The twin's parents had already given up on keeping them away from the Slytherin boy. Those three were going to be staying with him most of the break.

Then, he was going to host a Christmas party. The fifth year was planning on inviting the Weasleys, Daphne (and possibly her sister), as well as Dean Thomas, Luna Lovegood (because of Ginny), and Justin Finch-Fletchley and his friends.

And, to everyone's delight, there was another Hogsmeade trip on the very last weekend of the term.

"We can all do our Christmas shopping there!" Hermione exclaimed. "Mum and Dad would love those Toothflossing Stringmints from Honeydukes!"

So, on Saturday morning they all (except the twins; they had to finish last minute homework) bundled up in many coats, hats, and scarves and went down to Hogsmeade together. Harish figured that it would be best to not go on a date with Daphne that week so that he could buy her presents without her knowing.

 _LIVING-IN-A—MARSHMELLOW-WORLD_

Neville was thoroughly miserable. He wasn't allowed to go to Hogsmeade. Professor McGonagall had pulled him aside after Transfiguration one day and told him that Black was after him. Because of this, he was not allowed to leave the castle as a safety precaution. Ron hadn't wanted to leave Neville alone in the castle, but eventually Neville told him to go.

He went down to the Entrance Hall to bid his friend goodbye. Then…

"Psst—Neville!"

He turned to see Fred and George peering out at him behind a statue of a humpbacked, one-eyed witch.

"What are you doing here?" Neville asked in concern. "How come you're not going to Hogsmeade?"

"We've come to bring you a bit of festive cheer before we leave," Fred said with a mysterious wink. "Come in here…"

He nodded to the nearest disused classroom, which was located to the left of the statue. Neville hesitated for a moment, torn between curiousity and worry. Then, his curiousity got the better of him and he followed them in. George shut the door behind them and then turned, beaming to Neville.

"We wanted to tell you of a way in to Hogsmeade," he said.

"Why?" Neville asked. "Why would you help me?"

Both twins gave a little shrug.

"Kindness is good for the heart," they said in unison.

"Well," Fred said. "Most of the time—"

"Half of the time—"

"Occasionally," they ended together.

"So how do I get in without going past Filch?" Neville finally asked.

"A bit eager is he?" George asked, tilting one eyebrow up.

"Perhaps looking forward to breaking the rules."

Neville shuffled his feet, looking down. "No, I just—"

"It's all right," both twins interrupted.

"A bit of rebellion—"

"Is healthy too."

"Can you just tell me already?"

"Tusk, tusk. Don't speak to your superiors like that," Fred said.

"Now what you want to do is go to the statue just outside this classroom—"

"The one of the one-eyed witch."

"And then, you'll need to tap it with you wand—"

"And say _'Dissindium!'_ and then, just—"

"Toddle along the secret passageway to Hogsmeade!"

"Where does it come out?" Neville asked curiously.

"Right under Honeydukes. Don't worry about when you get there though."

"You should blend in with the crowd as so many people will be there."

"Good luck," they both said with winks. "See you in Honeydukes."

The twins then went out the front door and walked to Hogsmeade. The two of them met Harish in the Three Broomsticks. He had a bag full of purchases sitting next to him and he was lounging back in his seat.

"So, did you tell him?" the boy asked.

The twins nodded in reply.

"He seemed rather happy to get out of the castle."

"I could imagine," Harish replied. "I would go insane if _I_ was stuck inside."

"Why _did_ you have us—"

"Tell him how to get here?"

Harish shrugged. "I figured I may need a favour in a couple years."

The twins rolled their eyes.

"I think you think too far ahead, mate," George said.

Just then a bell tinkled in the distance and the door to the pub opened. Harish grumbled and turned around to watch as snow was blasted in the door. Then, the Minister of Magic walked through the door.

"Hello?" he murmured. "What is he doing here?"

He continued to watch as Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Hagrid walked in as well. While they were busy, Harish slowly moved to the other side of the table so that he could watch without drawing attention to them. Harish motioned for the twins to do something, so they both pulled out books and pretended to read, though they were really listening to the adults' conversation.

"A small gillywater—" Madam Rosmerta was saying.

"Mine," Professor McGonagall said, raising her hand slightly.

"Four pints of mulled mead—"

"Ta, Rosmerta," Hagrid replied.

"A cherry syrup and soda with ice and umbrella—"

"Mm!" Professor Flitwick hummed, licking his lips.

"So you'll be the red currant rum, Minister."

"Thank you Rosmerta," Fudge said. Harish noticed that he looked a little tired. "Lovely to see you again, I must say. Have one yourself, won't you? Come and join us…"

"Well, thank you very much, Minister."

Rosmerta walked away, her high heels glittering slightly. Then, she returned with her own drink and pulled up a chair.

"So what brings you to the neck of the woods, Minister?" Rosmerta asked.

Fudge turned, checking for eavesdroppers. Harish made certain to glance over to the door before pulling out a book. If Fudge had noticed him, he would have thought that Harish was simply looking out the window on the door. Harish looked back up when he heard Fudge speak.

"What else but Sirius Black? I daresay you heard what happened up at the school on Halloween?"

"I did hear a rumour," Madam Rosmerta admitted.

"Did you tell the whole pub, Hagrid?" McGonagall asked exasperatedly. Hagrid shook his head and took a swig of his drink.

"Do you think Black is still in the area, Minister?" Rosmerta whispered.

"I'm sure of it," Fudge replied shortly.

"You know that the dementors have searched my pub twice? Scared all my customers away…Very bad for business, Minister."

"Rosmerta, m'dear, I don't like them any more than you do," Fudge replied uncomfortably. "Necessary precaution. I've just met a few of them. They're in a fury against Dumbledore—he won't let them inside the castle grounds."

"I should think not," McGonagall said sharply. "How are we supposed to teach with those cloaked horrors floating around?"

"Hear, hear!" Flitwick squeaked.

"All the same," demurred Fudge, "they are here to protect you from something much worse…We all know what Black's capable of..."

"Do you know, I still have trouble believing it," Rosmerta said thoughtfully. "Of all the people to go over to the Dark Side, Sirius Black was the last I'd have thought…I mean, I remember him when he was a boy at Hogwarts. If you'd told me then what he was going to become, I would have said you'd had too much mead."

"You don't know half of it, Rosmerta," Fudge said gruffly. "The worst he did isn't widely known."

"The worst?" Rosmerta asked, her voice alive with curiousity. "Worse than killing all those people, you mean?"

"I certainly do," Fudge replied.

"I can't believe that. What could possibly be worse?"

"You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta," McGonagall murmured. "Do you remember who his best friend was?"

"Naturally," Rosmerta replied with a laugh. "Never saw one without the other—thick as thieves—they were quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!"

"Precisely," Professor McGonagall said. "Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright of course—exceptionally bright, in fact—but I don't think we've had a pair of trouble makers such as them—"

"I dunno," Hagrid chuckled. "Harish Blake and the Weasley twins could give 'em a run fer their money."

"You'd have thought Black and Potter were brothers!" Flitwick chimed. "Inseparable!"

"Of course they were," Fudge replied. "Potter trusted Black beyond all of his other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James and Lily were married. Then they named him godfather to their son, Harry."

Harry? The name piqued Harish's interest. As the Minister had said the name, McGonagall's eyes had teared up and she gave a little sniff.

"Of course," Fudge said. "Not many people are aware that the Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore, who was working tirelessly against him, had a useful number of spies. One of them had tipped him off, and he alerted James and Lily at once. He advised them to go into hiding. Well, of course You-Know-Who isn't the easiest to hide from, so they were forced to use the Fidelis Charm."

"How does that work?" Rosmerta asked breathlessly. Flitwick cleared his throat.

"An immensely complex spell," he said. "involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper who as long as they refused to speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where Lily and James were staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting room window!"

"So Black was the Potters' Secret-Keeper?" whispered Rosmerta.

"Naturally. James Potter told Dumbledore that Black would rather die than tell where they were, that Black was planning on going into hiding himself…and yet, Dumbledore remained worried. I remember him offering to be the Potters' Secret-Keeper himself."

"He suspected Black?" Rosmerta gasped.

"He was sure someone close to the Potters had been slipping information to You-Know-Who," McGonagall replied darkly. "Indeed, he had suspected for some time that someone on our side had turned traitor. And was passing a lot of information to You-Know-Who."

"But James Potter insisted on using Black?"

"He did," Fudge said heavily. "And then, barely a week after the Fidelis Charm had been performed—"

"Black betrayed them?"

"He did indeed. Black was tired of his double-agent role, and was ready to declare his support openly for You-Know-Who." Harish shook his head, glancing down at his book. How could they be so sure he was a follower of Voldemort without proof? "But, as we all know, You-Know-Who met his downfall in little Harry Potter, it was a shame the boy died as well. Powers gone, horribly weakened he fled, And this left Black in a terrible position. His master had fallen at the very moment when he had shown his true colours. He had no choice but to run for it—"

"Filthy stinkin' turncoat!" Hagrid said, so loudly that half the bar went quiet.

"Shhh!" McGonagall hushed him.

"I met him!: Hagrid growled. "I musta bin the last ter see him before he killed all those people! I was sent there by Dumbledore to check on the Potters when Dumbledore heard of Voldemort's forces moving. The house was blown to smithereens—Sirius shows up on his motorbike, wantin' to know what was goin' on. Never occurred ter me what he was doin' there. Thought he'd jus' heard the news o' You-Know-Who's attack an' come ter see what he could do. White as a sheet—shakin'—and yeh know what I did? I COMFORTED THE MURDERIN' TRAITOR!" Hagrid roared.

"Hagrid, please!" McGonagall scolded. "Keep your voice down!"

"How was I ter know he wasn' upset abou' Lily an' James an' Harry. An' Harry! A baby! Black's own godson an' he turns him straight over to You-Know-Who! An' then he asks me 'Where's Harry? Can I see 'im?' but of course he was dead. I didn'—I didn' have the heart—" Everyone wiped at their eyes or blew their noses. "Then 'e gave me 'is motorbike. Told me he didn't need it anymore. I shoulda known there was somethin' fishy goin' on then. Why was he givin' it ter me? Fact was, it was too east ter trace. Black knew he had ter run fer it."

"But he didn't disappear did he?" Rosmerta asked. "Didn't the Ministry catch up with him the next day?"

"Alas if only we had," Fudge said bitterly. "It was not we who found him but poor little Peter Pettigrew—another one of Potters' friends…"

Harish stood up then and told the twins that he needed to buy more gifts before they headed back. Once they were outside the pub, they headed to the Shrieking Shack so that they could talk. It was empty as they had suspected, but they still spoke in low voices.

"Is all of that true?" the twins asked.

Harish shook his head.

"My father told me when we came back from Egypt that Peter Pettigrew had been working as a double agent for him. He was the Secret-Keeper."

"Black was _innocent_?" they both asked in disbelief.

Harish nodded. "That's the curious thing. He's been in Azkaban for thirteen years, innocent. He never said a word. He never tried to escape, until now. What could've caused his sudden want for freedom?"

"Maybe he got bored?" Fred suggested.

"I would've gotten bored thirteen _weeks_ into the sentence."

"Well, he _was_ insane," George said. "He was probably in shock the first month or so."

"Still," Harish said. "My father recons he left for a reason. He did come _here_ after all. The question is, what is that reason?"

* * *

 **They are all ever so slowly getting closer and closer to finding out who he really is. If you R &R they will find out quicker!  
~TTFN**


	51. Part 5: Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...**

* * *

 **Chapter Seven: Is That a** _ **Firebolt?**_

This question resonated in their minds at the beginning of the break as the four boys left the train and went with Voldemort to Harish's manor. While they were leaving, Ron and Neville were sitting in the common room, bored. Ron got Scabbers out and inspected him, giving him some of his rat tonic. That maniacal cat tormented Ron day and night. He was afraid that the stress was making Scabbers worse. Currently the boy was petting the rat, as he had nothing better to do.

"Do you want to play gobstones?" Neville asked.

"We've already done that," Ron whined.

"What about Exploding Snap?"

Ron shook his head. "Hey! It's not dark yet. Why not visit Hagrid?"

"I'm game with that," Neville said, standing up.

They walked down to the giant man's hut. Neville knocked on the doors and there stood there in silence for a moment.

"Is that Fang?" Neville asked.

Coming from behind the door was a series of odd, low moans.

"Think we'd better go and get someone?" Ron asked nervously.

"Hagrid!" Neville called, thumping the door with his foot. "Hagrid are you in there?"

There was a sound of heavy footsteps, and then the door was pulled open. Hagrid stood there, his eyes bloodshot, tears splashing down his front.

"Yeh've heard?" he bellowed, flinging himself onto Neville's neck.

"Since Hagrid was over twice his size, this was a serious matter. Neville was about to collapse when he was rescued by Ron, who seized Hagrid and managed to hoist him onto his feet. Hagrid allowed himself to be steered into a chair and slumped over the table, sobbing uncontrollably.

Neville spotted an official-looking letter lying open on the table.

"What's this, Hagrid?" he asked.

Instead of replying, Hagrid's sobs redoubled. He shoved the letter toward Neville, who picked it up and read aloud:

 _Dear Mr. Hagrid,_

 _Further to inquiry of the matter of the conduct of the hippogriff, Buckbeak, we have accepted that you bear no responsibility. However, we must register our concern about the hippogriff in question. It had been decided that it is unsafe to leave the beast near our own young. The matter will be taken to the Committee of Dangerous Creatures. The hearing will take place on April 20th, and we ask you to present yourself and your hippogriff at the Committee's offices in London on that date. In the meantime, the hippogriff should be kept tethered and isolated._

 _Yours in fellowship…_

There followed a list of school governors.

"What exactly happened with Buckbeak?"

"'E went insane. I've never seen anythin' like it. 'E was flying in loops an' into trees…An' poor Harish Blake was stuck on 'is back."

"Blake was there?" Ron asked.

"Along with yer twin brothers. It was the fifth year Slytherin class."

 _RONNIE-MAKE—GRUMPY-CAT-FACE_

Harish, the twins, and Draco held so many two-on-two Quidditch matches that they were sick of either sitting on a broom or losing. Then, they played so many different games that they were so bored they had nothing left to do. One day, just a few days before Christmas, they were all slouching down in chairs in Harish's sitting room.

"I want to do some sort of prank," George said.

Harish grunted in reply.

"Yeah, it's too quiet…" Fred said, trailing off.

"Do you just pull pranks whenever it's too quiet?" Draco asked.

"Yes," the trio replied.

So, after a day of planning, Harish walked up to Bellatrix.

"Hey, Father wants you," he said, leaning nonchalantly on the wall.

"Wants me?" Bellatrix asked.

Harish nodded. "He wants you to wait on him in the dining room."

"Why the dining room?" Bellatrix asked.

Harish shrugged.

"It was convenient, I guess."

He watched Bella walked down the corridor and then turn toward the kitchen. Then, he dashed out of her wing and to the main wing where he and Voldemort stayed. He entered his father's study and said.

"Quick, you're going to be late!"

"Late?" Voldemort asked uninterestedly. "For what?"

"Dinner!"

"How can I be late for dinner? This is my house."

Harish groaned. "Just go and eat dinner!"

It said a lot that this behavior didn't even cause the Dark Lord to become angry. He simply smirked at his son's antics.

"Fine," he replied. "I was just about to send an elf for a snack anyway."

He set his newspaper down and stood up, walking out of his study.

"Yes!" Harish exclaimed. The Dark Lord shot him a look. "Sorry—I mean. That's good. I hope you enjoy your food."

"You are not coming with me?" his father asked, stopping and turning to look at this insane teenager.

"I fixed the food okay!" Harish exclaimed, acting as if he did not want to divulge this information. "That's why I want you to go eat."

Voldemort shook his head and headed for the dining room. Harish grinned behind his back and turned to go to his bedroom. From there, he snuck back toward the dining room collected the twins and Draco, who had just finished fixing the room for them.

"This is the oddest sort of prank I've ever pulled," Fred whispered to him as they walked back.

"Agreed," George said.

"Yes, but you have to admit it is fun," Harish said.

"Why exactly are you trying to get them together?" Draco asked. They entered Harish's bedroom again.

"I dunno," Harish mumbled awkwardly, looking down at his bedspread. "I've always wanted a real family."

They there for a moment and then Harish seemed to snap out of some sort of wistful state. "Anyway. It's fun messing with them. My father especially."

The twins shot each other a look. They were the only ones there that didn't understand Harish's want for a real family. They had too much family in their opinion. This caused them to feel slightly awkward. Draco, on the other hand, didn't think anything of it. He was ignored by his own parents anyway. Not to mention he was an only child.

Harish then started talking with the other three boys to distract them from what he had just said. He most likely hadn't meant to say it at all.

The next day they got dressed and ready for the party. Harish had to do some serious planning the day before, wondering what he was going to do with who. He was inviting everyone's families. In most parts this wouldn't be a problem, but Harish knew that his father was going to have Death Eaters coming through the whole time.

So, in case of the Weasleys, he would have to keep them distracted.

People were due to arrive at three o' clock. Harish was then going to show them into his father's meeting room. That was the main room that was big enough for a large party of people. Harish and his three friends threw some streamers over some dark looking artifacts, his the throne at the front of the room, and no one could tell what the room was really used for. Harish had the elves set tables up along the side of the room for food and a couple round tables in the center to sit at. Then, there was still a rather large open space where people could move around.

The first person to arrive was Dean. He was alone, as Harish thought it a bad idea to invite his Muggle mother. Harish directed him to the ballroom, and stayed by the door to greet his other guests. Dean walked up and stood awkwardly next to Draco. Both of them were painfully aware that they belonged to enemy houses.

Then, after Dean, Hermione arrived (also by herself). Once Hermione found her way to the correct room, Ginny showed up with her parents. Harish was glad to notice that Ron hadn't come. He didn't know what he would have done if that idiot had showed up.

Next, Luna Lovegood and her father arrived, followed by Angelina Johnson and Justin Finch-Fletchley. Hannah Abbott came as well along with Amelia Bones and her niece. Finally, Daphne came with both of her parents and her little sister, Astoria. As they were the last guests Harish had invited, he walked with them to the ballroom.

Then he, Daphne, and Astoria joined the other kids while the older Greengrasses joined the gaggle of parents. Harish was pleased to see that all of his guests (the children, anyhow) were getting along quite well. Dean was talking with the twins about joke products. Hermione was talking with Ginny about Muggle inventions. Draco was talking with Luna (though he looked a bit confused). And the Hufflepuffs were keeping to themselves.

They spent the time eating and catching up with each other. They all did not do much more than talk the entire party.

After the party ended, the twins and Draco still remained at Harish's house for the rest of the break. The day after Harish's Christmas Eve party, he was woken up by a pillow being thrown in his face.

"Harish! It's Christmas!" Draco exclaimed, throwing another pillow at his friend.

Harish groaned and flicked his wand. There was an odd popping sound and the next moment, Draco was hanging in the air by his ankle.

"Will that teach you to not wake me up again?" Harish asked, releasing his friend.

The blonde boy laughed. "Whatever you say, Harish."

Harish shook his head, but went down to the sitting room nevertheless. The twins were already down there, opening their presents that were under the tree. Harish and Draco joined them. The three older boys got sweaters from Mrs. Weasley along with a tin of homemade fudge, come Christmas cake, and a box of nut brittle. As Harish moved all these things aside, he noticed a long, thin package.

"What is that?" Draco asked, looking over, a box of chocolates in his hand.

"I don't know…"

Harish ripped the packaging open and gasped as a magnificent, gleaming broomstick rolled out onto his lap. Draco gasped and the twins dropped a pair of silver knitted socks they were each holding. The other three boys hopped up for a closer look.

"I don't believe it," the twins whispered in awe.

It was a Firebolt, the latest model of broom that had come out that summer. Its handle glittered as he picked it up. He could feel it vibrating. The teen stood up and let go. The broom hung in midair at the perfect height for Harish to mount. His eyes moved from the golden registration number at the top handle, right down to the perfectly smooth birch twigs that made up the tail.

"Who sent it to you?" Draco asked in a hushed voice.

All four boys ripped through the wrappings, looking for a card of some sorts. There was none. All there was, was a little tag with the name _Harry_ scrawled on it.

"It's addressed to Harry," Harish murmured.

"We don't know any Harrys," Draco said. "Maybe they just misspelled your name."

Harish nodded.

"Or maybe it's a nickname or something," George said.

"But who would spend this much money on you?" Draco asked incredulously. "Because I can tell you, it wasn't me. We could afford something like this, but I would totally have one first."

Harish shook his head. "I don't know who could've sent it…"

"You don't think…" Fred wondered aloud trailing off.

"What?" Draco and Harish asked.

"You don't think Sirius Black could've sent it, do you?"

"Why Sirius Black?"

"I dunno…He may think that Harry Potter is still alive."

"Yeah," George said, catching on. "So he sent a jinxed broom addressed to Harry, trying to get rid of him. But since there _is_ no Harry in Hogwarts, the owl got confused and brought it to you because your name is close enough."

"That is the most far-fetched story I have ever heard in my life," Draco said doubtfully.

"Draco is right," Harish said. "It was probably a secret admirer of mine, or something, that sent it…It doesn't matter anyway…" he paused, looking down at the shining, brand new broom. "Who wants to have a go on it?"

* * *

 **Because Hermione is** _ **not**_ **around to ruin it!**

 **TtFn**


	52. Part 5: Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Chapter Eight: Flight of the Fat Rat**

Term started up again right after New Year's. Ron and Neville spent their free time tirelessly trying to find a case where a hippogriff went to a trial, but got off. Hagrid was so grateful that he was beyond tears. It made Ron sore to know that this whole incident was caused by his brothers. He was really getting to the point where he hated them now as well as their Death Eater friend. Ginny being sorted into Slytherin didn't help matters.

The two boys had checked numerous books out of the library and then sat by the roaring fire, reading silently. The quiet was only broken when one of them found something worth noting.

"Here's something…there was a case in 1722…but the hippogriff was convicted—look what they did to it—that's cool…sorry."

"This might help, look—a manticore savaged someone in 1296 and they let the manticore off—oh—no, that was only because everyone was too scared to go near it…"

Just then the evil ginger menace stalked into the room. Ron bolted up and dashed to the dormitory, closing the door behind him. He did not want Scabbers to be terrorized.

 _BAD-KITTY-BAD-KITTY—NO-SCABBERS-NO!_

Harish was ahead in all of his classes. He had studied ahead enough that he didn't really need to study all that much anymore. Because of this, he decided that he needed practice on his patronus charm on a real dementor. Or at least the closest thing he could find. That was why he could be seen in a disused classroom with a chest that held a boggart in it.

Harish unlocked the trunk with a flick of his wand. Immediately, the temperature in the room plummeted and a thick fog swirled around him.

" _Expecto patronum!_ " he exclaimed, imagining in his mind receiving his Nimbus 2000. The fog swirled thicker and denser.

" _Not, Harry—no!"_

Harish bolted upright. He was lying on the ground with his wand beside his head. The dementor had been dragged back into the chest the moment Harish lost consciousness. He had cast a spell on it to where it wouldn't escape out into the castle.

The teenage boy groaned and checked his watch. Then, he cursed under his breath, grabbed his book-bag, and dashed out of the room. From there he ran straight to Transfiguration and made it just in time before the bell rang. He was still panting heavily when Professor McGonagall entered the room. She began a lecture about who knows what. As she spoke, Harish's attention swam and he shivered uncontrollably.

Finally Professor McGonagall stopped and asked, "Mr. Blake are you quite alright?"

Harish knew that he was clammy and vaguely sick feeling, but he denied feeling ill. McGonagall would not have any of it, though and she sent him straight to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey hadn't asked, simply tsked at him and handed him a huge brick of chocolate.

 _SHE'S-DEFINITELY—GIVEN-UP_

Having just finished a recently assigned paper, Remus Lupin sat back in his desk and surveyed his class of third year Gryffindors. They were all reading out of their books, as they were supposed to be doing. Remus let out a soft, tired sigh and looked down at his desk.

Sitting facing him was a picture. In it were he, James, Sirius, and Peter. Beside it was a picture of James, Lily, and Harry. Lily was holding the baby, and James was bending over, making it laugh. Baby Harry's emerald eyes were lit up with sheer happiness. Seeing the picture of Harry, it made Remus think back to a revelation he had reached on the train as soon as the Blake boy opened his eyes.

The first thing Remus had noticed, was that they were shaped exactly like Lily's. They weren't such a vibrant shade, but they were most definitely green. The second thing he noticed was that the boy had features of Lily's in the eyes and the shaped of the head. Lastly, the boy's hair, though not the black of James's, stuck up at the back just like the man's did.

The only conclusion Remus could come to was that this boy was Harry Potter. The only thing was, if this _was_ Harry Potter, who should he tell? And who would believe him? Plus, Remus may not have even been right. So, he never told anyone his suspicions.

 _GETTING-WARMER—TWO-PEOPLE-NOW_

Ron walked back from Defense Against the Dark Arts class to find Neville already standing outside the common room.

"I wrote them down! I must have dropped them somewhere!" Neville was saying.

"A likely tale!" Sir Cadogan roared.

"What's going on?' Ron asked his friend.

"I've lost the passwords!" Neville told him miserably. "I made him tell me what the passwords are for the week because he keeps changing them, but I must've lost the list."

"The password's Oddsbodikins," Ron said. Sir Cadogan's painting swung forward to let them inside. Then he told Neville, "Come on. I need to go give Scabbers his rat tonic."

The two of the bounded up the stairs to their dormitory. Ron let a strangled yell when he caught sight of his bed. Neville stepped forward to see what the matter was with curiousity. On it was something that looked horribly like blood. Beside the blood, sitting on the sheets, were several thick ginger hairs.

 _DON'T-FALL-FOR-IT—THE-RAT'S-NOT-DEAD_

That afternoon, Harish returned to his abandoned classroom, now armed with half of an enormous slab of chocolate. The Slytherin boy practiced the charm and the wand movement over and over again. Then, he flicked his wand, and once again the trunk holding the boggart flew open. Freezing water filled the teen's lungs, causing his to gasp.

The dementor swooped out, turning to face Harish. Even though he paled, Harish exclaimed, " _Expecto patronum!"_

A small wisp of silvery light shot out of the end of his wand. The woman screaming faded to the background, sounding more like a broken radio. Harish smiled weakly. It was stronger. But not strong enough. The teen decided he needed a stronger memory. He searched all of his good memories until he found the perfect one.

" _EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_ he shouted.

 _A small seven-year-old boy sat with his legs curled underneath him. He licked his dry lips and wiggled his fingers as they fell asleep again; the boy's hands were chained to the column behind him. Young Harish Blake sat brooding, as there was nothing better to do in that dark room._

 _He had always known that there was something wrong with his father. He was broken—like a toy. Voldemort never showed any emotion, any affection. He was never happy, always seeming slightly haunted. On top of that, he had a temper that no one could compete with. The smallest thing would happen, and he would blow up._

 _Harish felt sorry for his father. He loved him very much._

 _Just then, a loud thump came from above him. The young boy swiveled his pale green eyes upward, toward the ceiling. He tilted his head and listened very intently. Footsteps were walking across the floor above. Then, they moved down into the hallway outside. A flash of bright light crept under the door and a grunt escaped into the prisoner's room._

 _Then, the door was blasted away._

 _Harish's father dashed into the room, easily melted the chains binding the boy with a swish of his wand, and scooped his son into his arms. Kneeling down, the Dark Lord hugged Harish tightly. Harish sat there, in shock. The Dark Lord had never shown any sign that he loved the son that adored him so much._

" _You are safe," Voldemort murmured softly._

 _Harish looked up at the man, his hair falling into his pale, grimy face. Was he supposed to hear that? Surely not…His father swiped the hair out of his son's eyes and Harish was surprised that when he looked into his father's icy blue ones, they reflected…relief?_

" _Of course I'm safe," Harish whispered as soon as he found his voice again. "I knew you would find me."_

 _Harish hugged his father tightly, burying his face in the man's dark robes. Even though Voldemort was broken, the fact that he loved Harish was all that counted._

Out of the end of his wand blasted a smooth body. It started out small, but then it grew and grew until it was the size of a house. The basilisk displayed its razor sharp teeth, stared the mock dementor down, and the creature of sorrows fled. Harish guided it back into the chest and locked it inside. Then, he straightened up and wiped tears out of his eyes.

* * *

 **Here's a nice little insight into Harish's childhood. Review with your questions!  
~TTFN**


	53. Part 5: Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...**

* * *

 **Chapter Nine: The Sacking of the Knight, Sir Cadogan**

Harish returned to the common room that evening after finishing his chocolate bar. There, he found the twins talking about joke products, Draco snoozing on a chair, and Hermione sitting at a table in the back, surrounded by piles of books. Harish walked over to her, moved a tall stack of parchment, and sat down.

"This looks like quite a bit of work," he said, picking up her heavy Ancient Runes book.

"I'm managing fine," Hermione replied stiffly, writing paragraphs quickly on her essay.

"Can't you drop a few subjects? How are you even getting to your classes on time?"

Hermione looked scandalized.

"I can't drop any subjects!"

Harish gestured to a piece of parchment sitting nearby.

"Arithmancy looks hard."

"It's my favorite subject!" Hermione exclaimed, snatching up the paper.

Harish shook his head and made his way to get up, just then something brushed against his leg. He looked down to see a furry, orange cat. It jumped up on the table and Hermione started pleasantly.

"Crookshanks!" she exclaimed. "You came back!"

"He was probably just going on a short hunting trip," Harish said with a yawn, walking down to the dormitories. Facing the dementor had been exhausting. He climbed in bed fully clothed and fell asleep quickly.

 _VERY-NICE-HUNTING-TRIP—YUMMM_

On the Friday before the next Quidditch game which was on Saturday, they had practice until nearly dark. Then, Flint had rushed them back to the castle, as they didn't want to be caught outside past hours. Harish walked back slowly, however, for he did not to be rushed. His Firebolt was slung across one shoulder. The twins were on either side of him with Draco lagging behind.

As they walked, night slowly fell. Soon it was very dark. Harish spotted movement out of the corner of his eye when they were about halfway to the castle.

"Lumos!" he exclaimed lighting up the area.

A beam of light fell across the grass, hit the bottom of a tree, and illuminated its branches. Crouching there was Crookshanks. Harish sighed in relief. For a moment, he had thought that he had seen eyes belonging to the Grim. It seemed as if it was only Hermione's cat, out for a midnight snack.

They set back off for the castle. Harish took a deep breath. Slightly ashamed of his panic, he didn't say anything the rest of the trip.

The next morning, they walked down to breakfast confidently. Harish knew that they would win the match that day. He was absolutely sure of it. His positive attitude seemed to rub off on his team, and it also helped that they were now equipped with the best broom.

Harish held his Firebolt and the other Slytherins looked about, as if they were ready for it to be stolen at any moment. The rest of the castle were too thunderstruck to do such a thing though. The Gryffindors especially looked rather sour.

"Put it here, Harish?" Flint said, motioning to the center of the table. Harish gladly obliged and dug into his breakfast.

People wandered over to have a look at it throughout the meal. Justin congratulated Harish on having such a great broom, Luna made an odd comment about Wrackspurts, and Dean asked if he could just hold it.

"Can you manage that broom, Blake?" Ron asked, coming over angrily.

"Yeah, I reckon so," Harish replied casually.

This seemed to make the boy even more angry.

"Shame it doesn't come with a parachute. Sure you won't fall off your broom this time?"

"Shove off, Ron," Fred said.

Ron stalked off, mumbling angrily under his breath.

At a quarter to eleven, the Slytherin team set off for the locker rooms. The weather couldn't have been more perfect. It was a clear, cool day with a very light breeze. There would be no problems seeing this time, and Harish was beginning to feel the excitement that only a Quidditch match could bring. As he pulled on his Quidditch robes and stuffed his wand in a holster in his arm, he could hear the rest of the school coming out to the stadium.

Flint gave them a usual speech about winning and playing their best. Half the team was rolling their eyes at the speech they had heard countless times, while others were sitting nervously, waiting on the edge of their seat for the match to begin. And it did, not much later.

The team captains shook hands and then the separate teams mounted their brooms. When Madam Hooch blew her whistle to signify the start of the match, Harish kicked off and instantly began scanning the pitch for any glimmer of gold. He soared around the stadium, only half listening to the commentation.

"They're off, and the big excitement of this match is the Firebolt that Harish Blake is riding on," Lee Jordan, the regular commentator, said. "According to _which Broomstick_ , the Firebolt's going to be the choice for the national teams at this year's World Championship—"

"Jordan, would you mind telling us what's going on in the match?" McGonagall interrupted.

"Right you are, Professor—just giving a bit of a background information—the Firebolt, incidentally, has built-in autobrake and—"

"Jordan!"

"Okay, okay, Slytherin in possession, Draco Malfoy of Slytherin heading for goal…"

Harish streaked past Draco in the opposite direction, gazing around for a glint of gold and noticing that Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw Seeker, was tailing him closely.

"Hoping I'll lead you to victory, huh?" Harish muttered before pulling into a sharp dive.

He pushed the broom as fast as if would go, heading straight for the ground near the goal posts.

"It seems as if Slytherin's Seeker has spotted the Snitch!" Lee Jordan shouted. "Chang isn't far behind!"

Harish glanced back to see Cho struggling to keep up with him. As he got nearer to the ground, he slowed down, but Cho kept going just as fast. Then, with only seconds before he could have crashed, he pulled up sharply and shot into the air like a bullet. Cho landed on the ground with a thud. Harish grinned. That got rid of her.

Then, just as Draco was scoring, the Slytherin section went wild. Harish looked down, and he saw it. The Snitch was hovering near one of the barriers. He accelerated towards it then, he looked down and saw two tall, black, hooded dementors looking up at him.

Harish didn't stop to think. He whipped his wand out of his holster, whirled it at the dementors, and roared, _"Expecto patronum!_ "

Harish's enormous basilisk shot out of the end and the entire stadium let out a collective gasp. He turned back around and stretched out his arm, ready to intercept the Snitch. A Bludger flew towards him, but he dodged it. Then, his hand closed on cool metal and he held the Snitch up high for the stadium to see.

"Slytherin wins!" Lee shouted. "One hundred and twenty to zero!"

Six green blurs shot toward Harish and he was surrounded by his team, all congratulating him. They landed together on the grassy lawn with a bump and people flooded out of the stands.

"That's my boy!" Flint bellowed.

"Yes!" Draco exclaimed, yanking Harish's arm into the air. "Yes! Yes!"

"We'll have the match now!" George shouted.

"For sure!" Fred agreed.

"Good for you, Harish!" Ginny said. Daphne was with her and she nodded approvingly.

"That was quite some patronus," said a voice in Harish's ear.

He turned to see Professor Lupin, who looked both shaken and pleased.

"May I ask where you learned?" he asked.

"I taught myself!" Harish told him happily over the noise of the crowd. Lupin looked rather impressed. "I didn't even feel the dementors! They didn't affect me at all!"

"That would be because they—er—weren't dementors," Lupin told him. "Come see—"

Harish followed him out of the crowd where two figures lay sprawled on the ground. There, trying to get out of the robes and off of some sort of stilts were Ron Weasley and a sandy haired Gryffindor.

"You gave Mr. Weasley quite the scare…"

Standing over them were Professors McGonagall and Snape. Harish couldn't tell which looked more angry.

"An unworthy trick!" McGonagall shouted.

"Detention!" Snape spat. "And fifty points from Gryffindor!"

"A low and cowardly attempt to sabotage the game! You will be doing detention with me as well and ten points from Gryffindor…"

Harish turned to see Neville and Dean standing at the edge of the crowd, watching their classmates. Both seemed torn between shame, and loyalty to their house. As the Slytherin walked toward them, Neville started quaking in fear.

"I told him not to!" he said.

"It really is ridiculous," Dean said. "The whole house will probably hate them too. Sixty points from Gryffindor! We're surely out of the running now…"

"Come on!" the twins said as he rejoined them.

"Party in the common room!"

It felt as though they had already won the Quidditch Cup; the party went on all day and well into the night. Fred and George disappeared for a couple of hours and returned, arms full of butterbeer, pumpkin fizz, and several bags of Honeydukes sweets.

"Where'd you get all of that?" Hermione squealed as they began throwing Peppermint Toads out to the crowd.

The twins smirked at Harish and he nodded knowingly. They had used a little help from Moony, Padfoot, Prongs, and Wormtail. Then, Harish turned to see that Hermione was still doing homework. Fred joined Harish to talk to her as George started juggling butterbeer bottles.

"Did you even come to the match?" Fred asked her.

"Of course I did," Hermione replied in a strangely high voice, not looking up. "And I'm very glad we won, and I think Harish did really well, but I need to read this by Monday."

"Come on, Hermione, come and have some food," Harish said.

"I can't, Harish. I've still got four hundred and twenty-two pages left!" Hermione said, now sounding hysterical.

Harish shook his head and he lead Fred back over to the main party. The Slytherin party only ended when Professor Snape turned up, looking really sour, and barked at them all to go to bed. The house scattered, doing as they were told and went to sleep.

 _CELEBRATE-GOOD-TIMES—COME-ON!_

"AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGHHH! NOOOOOOOO!"

Neville awoke suddenly as though he had been hit in the face. Disoriented, he fumbled to get out of his twisted sheets and pull back the hangings that blocked his view of the room.

"What's going on?" Seamus asked.

Neville thought he heard the dormitory door slam. At last, finding the divide in his curtains, he ripped them apart just as Dean was lighting a lamp. Ron was sitting up in his bed, his hangings torn from one side, a look of utmost terror on his face.

"Black! Sirius Black! With a knife!"

" _What?_ "

"Here! Just now! Slashed the curtains! Woke me up!"

"You sure you weren't dreaming?" Dean asked skeptically.

"Look at the curtains! I tell you, he was here!"

They all scrambled out of bed; Neville reached the dormitory door first, and they all sprinted back own the staircase. Doors opened behind them, and sleepy voices called after them.

"Who shouted?"

"What're you doing?"

The common room was lit with the glow of a dying fire, but was deserted.

"Are you _sure_ you weren't dreaming, Ron?"

"I tell you, I saw him!:

"What's all that noise?"

"Professor McGonagall told us to go to bed!"

A few girls had come down the staircase. Boys too, were reappearing.

"Everyone back upstairs!" Percy commanded, pinning his Head Boy badge onto his pajamas as he spoke.

"Perce—Sirius Black!" Ron said faintly. "In our dormitory! With a knife! Woke me up!"

"Nonsense!" Percy said, looking startled. "You had too much to eat—had a nightmare…"

"Now really, what is all the commotion?" McGonagall asked, slamming the portrait behind her.

"I didn't authorize this, Professor!" Percy shouted. "It was my brother—had a nightmare—"

"IT WASN'T A NIGHTMARE!" Ron bellowed. "PROFESSOR, I WOKE UP BECAUSE SIRIUS BLACK WAS STANDING OVER ME WITH A KNIFE!"

Professor McGonagall stared at him

"Don't be ridiculous, Weasley, how could he have possibly gotten through the portrait hole?"

"Ask him!" Ron said, pointing a shaking finger at the back of Sir Cadogan's picture. "Ask him if he saw—"

Glaring suspiciously at Ron, McGonagall pushed the portrait back open and went outside. The whole common room listened with baited breath.

"Sir Cadogan, did you just let a man enter Gryffindor Tower?"

"Certainly good lady!"

There was stunned silence, both inside and outside the common room.

"You—you _did_? But—but the password—"

"He had 'em!" Sir Cadogan informed her proudly. "Had the whole week's m'lady! Read 'em off a little piece of paper!"

McGonagall pulled herself back through the portrait hole to face the silent crowd. She was white as chalk.

"Which person," she said in a shaking voice, "which abysmally foolish person wrote down this week's passwords and left them lying around?"

There was utter silence, broken by the smallest of squeaks. Neville, trembling form head to fluffy-slippered toes, raised his hand slowly into the air.

* * *

 **Poor poor Neville. Anyway, R &R!  
~TTFN**


	54. Part 5: Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...**

* * *

 **Chapter Ten: Moonlight Strolls Aplenty**

Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk, a headache already forming in his temples. Thirteen years ago, when young Harry Potter died at the hands of Lord Voldemort, he knew that he had to find a new savior. This was necessary because he was certain Voldemort would be returning.

The only other boy the prophecy could have referred to was a boy that we all know was named Neville Longbottom. Dumbledore sent the child to his grandmother, knowing he wouldn't be coddled. He had set up obstacles in the boy's first year to test him.

Not only had the boy broken his wrist from falling off a _broom_ , of all things, he was practically forced into solving the puzzle of the stone. Then, the next year the boy had shown his incompetence in almost every single class. Now, to add to Dumbledore's misery, the boy had left a slip of paper lying around for Black to find, because he was too imbecilic to remember the passwords. Dumbledore wouldn't have dared said any of this in front of anyone else, though. He had to keep up his old, dotty appearance after all.

The old man sighed, wondering if the Longbottom boy would ever become the warrior he needed.

 _BAD-DUMBY—MESSING-WITH-POOR-NEVILLE_

Very quickly, Ron became a hero and Neville was in total disgrace. Ron relayed what he saw over and over again, dramatically to anyone would listen. Tighter security was set in place the very next day.

The next weekend, there was a Hogsmeade trip and Harish made sure to use this as another chance to spend more time with Daphne. The two of them went into most of the shops and enjoyed the other's presence immensely. While they were doing that, the twins were Zonko's looking at some Dungbombs. After a little while, Ron and Neville walked in and the three of them seemed to do their best at not noticing the other.

At the front desk, Ron and Neville were whispering to each other while they waited to purchase their selections. Fred and George, who were standing behind them, began to listen intently.

"Do you think that stuff we gave Hagrid is enough to get Buckbeak off?" Neville asked.

Ron nodded.

"I still think it's ridiculous he has to go on trial in the first place," their brother replied. "All because the hippogriff went a little wild in Hagrid's first class."

"Poor Hagrid is devastated, though," Neville mumbled.

"Devastated?" Ron question. "Mad, more like. I don't get why he's attached to the creature, anyway…"

The twins looked at each other guiltily. They had guessed pretty accurately that their brother had been talking about the hippogriff they had fed the energy sweet to. After they left, they found Harish. He and Daphne were sitting in a booth in the Three Broomsticks. Harish shot them an annoyed look and Daphne seemed mildly amused.

"What're you doing here?" Harish asked in a quiet voice.

"You know that sweet we fed to the hippogriff—"

"In our first class of the year?"

"How could I not?" Harish asked angrily. "I was sitting on that monster when it took off, flying in circles and loops."

"Well apparently the Committee of the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures got wind of it and are planning on executing the hippogriff, Buckbeak."

"There's going to be a trial first, though…"

"Really?" Harish asked. "Why are you telling me this?"

The twins shrugged and shook their heads.

"Just feeling guilty—"

"I guess."

Harish shook his head at them before shooing them off.

 _LEAVE-ME-ALONE—WITH-MY-DATE_

That night, Harish sat up in his bed, shining a light on the Marauder's Map. All of the other boys were fast asleep and it was pitch dark down in their dormitory. Harish had started checking the map each night after the others fell asleep ever since Black had gotten into the castle for the second time.

He knew that the two passageways to Hogsmeade weren't blocked in any way, or guarded. The boy guessed that these could have been how the man had gotten into the castle. Because of this, he intended on making sure that he didn't see the escapee anywhere on the map before he went to sleep. He wasn't being paranoid. He was simply curious on why Black had broken out of Azkaban.

While he was staring at the map, Harish's eyes happened to fall on a dot labelled, _"Peter Pettigrew"_. When he saw this, Harish stopped and stared at it. He knew that Peter Pettigrew was dead. All that had been found of him was his finger. That was why Harish was greatly confused.

Then, in less than a minute, Harish had climbed out of bed and was rummaging in his trunk for his Invisibility Cloak. The teen pulled it around himself and, holding the map below his nose, left the room. As he walked along, he held his wand out of his cloak for light. The light bounced off of portraits and around the hallways, casting odd shadows.

Harish watched as Pettigrew's dot grew closer and closer. The young man glanced up when he should've been face to face with the man, but there was nothing there. When the teen glanced down at the map again, the dot had disappeared and now a new one, saying _"Severus Snape"_ was about to round the corner, coming toward him.

Quickly, Harish muttered, "Knox," turning his light out. Then, he pointed it at the map. "Mischief Managed."

No more than a minute later, Snape had indeed round the corner and was shining his wand-light directly in Harish's face.

"Mr. Blake," Snape murmured. "Fancy seeing you here, out of bed after hours. You know, I have been wanting to speak with you alone for some time now."

He motioned for Harish to follow and the fifth year had no choice, but to allow himself to be led to Snape's office. He had never been inside it before. It was filled with jars of different creatures of body parts. Harish's nose wrinkled when an eyeball swiveled to look at him.

"What do you want to speak with me about?" Harish finally asked.

"Some strange things have been happening in the castle these past five years."

"Oh?" Harish asked. Subconsciously, he strengthened his Occlumency shields. "Like what?"

"Like all of the seventh years showing up in the Hospital Wing in your first year, appearing to have been submitted to the Cruciatus curse. But of course, no _student_ could cast such a spell."

Harish shrugged.

"I wouldn't know, si—"

"Or perhaps the same thing happening the next year? Or possibly the stone being stolen the next, but we find Quirrel without possession with anything like it. Or maybe you could explain how you knew where to find the Chamber of Secrets? Let me tell you, Mr. Blake, I know there is something going on here. Something that is more than meets the eye, and I can assure you I am going to find out what it is!"

"I'm sure I don't know what you are talking about, sir," Harish replied innocently, his eyes wide. He stuck his hands in his pocket, seeming perfectly nonchalant—that is until his hand caused the map to crinkle a little in his pocket.

"Turn out your pockets!" Snape suddenly snapped.

Harish stopped himself from closing his eyes in dread. Then, he pulled the map out of his pocket silently and set it on his professor's desk. All the five years he had owned it, and he had not been caught with it. Snape picked up the map with an odd look on his face.

"Spare bit of parchment," Harish said with a shrug.

Snape turned it over, his eyes on Harish.

"Surely you don't need such an old piece of parchment," he said. "Why don't I just—throw it away?"

His hand moved toward the fire crackling behind him.

"No!" Harish exclaimed.

"So!" Snape said triumphantly. Harish scowled. "What is it? Some sort of Dark Magic? A note written in Invisible Ink?"

Harish blinked. Snape's eyes gleamed.

"Let me see, let me see…" he muttered, taking out his wand and smoothing the map out on his desk. "Reveal your secrets!" he said.

Nothing happened. Harish watched, trying not to show any emotion.

"Show yourself!" Snape said, tapping the map sharply.

It stayed blank. Harish took a deep breath.

"Professor Severus Snape, master of this school, commands you to yield the information you conceal!" Snape said, hitting the map with his wand.

As though an invisible hand was scrawling across it, words appeared on the smooth surface of the map. Harish shuddered. It reminded him slightly of his father's diary that a demon had possessed the year before.

" _Mr. Moony present his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business."_

Snape froze. Harish froze dumbstruck, at the message. The map didn't stop there, though. More writing was appearing below the first.

" _Mr. Prongs would like to agree with Mr. Moony, and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git."_

Harish bit back a snort, really working hard to keep his face passive. Snape's expression was priceless. The boy half wished that the twins were there to see it…

" _Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor."_

Harish closed his eyes, trying to center himself so that he wouldn't get himself into more trouble. When he'd opened them, the map had had its last word.

" _Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball."_

Harish waited silently for his Head of House to lash out.

"So…" Snape said softly. "We'll see about this…"

He strode across to the fire, seized a fistful of floo powder, and threw it into the flames.

"Lupin!" Snape called into the fire. "I want a word!"

There was a moment's pause and then Professor Lupin came spinning out of the fire, covered in ashes and looking quite tired. He clambered out of the fireplace and brushed the ash off of his shabby robes.

"You called, Severus?" Lupin asked mildly.

"I certainly did," Snape replied, his face contorted in fury. "I just asked Mr. Blake, here to empty his pockets. He was carrying this."

He pointed to the map that still contain the Marauders' message. Lupin glanced at Harish, only just noticing that he was there, and then looked back at the parchment with an odd, closed expression on his face.

"Well?" Snape queried.

Lupin continued to stare at the map. Harish thought that he looked like he was doing some quick thinking.

" _Well_?" Snape repeated. "This parchment is plainly full of Dark Magic. This is supposed to be your area of expertise, Lupin. Where do you imagine Blake could have got such a thing?"

Lupin looked up and, by the merest half-glance in Harish's direction, warned him not to interrupt.

"Full of Dark Magic?" he repeated mildly. "Do you really think so, Severus? It looks as though it is merely a piece of parchment that insults anybody who reads it. Childish, but surely not dangerous? I imagine Harish got it from a joke shop—"

"Indeed?" Snape asked with a set jaw, his nostrils flaring. "You think a joke shop could supply him with such a thing? You don't think it more likely that he got it _directly from the manufacturers?_ "

Harish didn't quite understand what Snape was getting at. Nor, apparently did Lupin.

"You mean, by Mr. Wormtail or one of these people?" he asked. "Harish, do you know these men?"

"No," Harish replied quickly.

"You see, Severus?" Lupin asked, turning back to Snape. "It looks like a Zonko's product to me. Now I think I shall retire to bed. Mr. Blake, I think you should as well."

He tucked the map into his robes and stepped behind Harish, following him out of the room. Then, once they were in the corridor once again, Lupin walked up to stand beside the fifth year, and stopped him.

"Now," he said. "I happen to know that this map was confiscated by Filch many years ago, Yes, I know it's a map, and I don't know how it fell into your possession. I am _astounded_ , however, that you did not immediately turn it in. Did it ever occur to you that this could fall into the hands of Sirius Black? Not to mention you wandering around past hours while we have a killer on the loose. I am sure that this will not happen again, for I am keeping the map."

Harish's mouth fell open in outrage. Then, he asked, "Why did Professor Snape think I had gotten it from the manufacturers?"

"Because…" Lupin hesitated. "Because these map-makers would have wanted to lure you out of the school, They'd have found it extremely entertaining. Now, I want you to return to bed. And don't make any detours on the way. If you do, I shall know."

Harish nodded and made his way toward the end of the corridor. Then, he paused, turning back.

"I don't think that map works right anyway," he replied.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I saw someone on there, who I know to be dead…Peter Pettigrew."

"That's not possible," Lupin whispered. He looked even more tired just then.

"I'm just telling you what I saw," Harish replied before turning back to leave.

As he walked down the corridor, Lupin stared at the map once again.

* * *

 **Here I used a little scene from the movie for my inspiration, as any of you who have read the books enough know that this doesn't actually happen in the book. Don't forget to review!**

 **TTFN**


	55. Part 5: Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven: O.W.L.'s**

The next day Ron and Neville learned that Buckbeak had been sentenced to death and the twins found out, not much later. Easter holidays passed in a blur of studying and mounds of work. Hermione had so much, that she hardly got any sleep anymore.

After the holidays, the teachers gave up on homework and began reviewing all of the information they had learned in the past five years. The common room was silent each night as the third and fourth years trudged through mounds of homework, and the fifth and seventh years studied for their exams. The fifth years had to take their OWL's (Ordinary Wizard Levels) and the seventh years had NEWT's (Nastily Exhausting Wizard Tests). Prefects would give detentions out and take points from any student that made too much noise.

Then, the Friday after Easter, there was a new notice put up in the Entrance Hall.

 _ **Career Advice**_

 _ **All fifth years are required to attend a short meeting with their Head of House during the first week of the Summer term, in which they will be given the opportunity to discuss their future careers. Times of individual appointments are listed below.**_

Harish looked down at the list and saw that he was expected in Professor Snape's office at half past two on the next Wednesday, which would mean that he would be missing most of Care of Magical Creatures. The rest of the weekend was then spent reading up on different careers. There were several different pamphlets; one for Healing, Business, Muggle Relations, Curse Breaking, Aurors, Troll Training…and the list went on.

Harish and the twins each looked at the business pamphlet. That would be the career they would have to list in their meeting if they wanted to start a joke shop. The main thing was, Harish knew absolutely for certain that he didn't want to work for the Ministry…not while it was under the influence of Dumbledore, anyway. Harish also didn't want to be a healer; he would have to make an Exceeds Expectations on his NEWT in almost every class to qualify. Curse Breaking did sound interesting, though. He suggested it to the twins as a back-up for if they couldn't find the funds to start a joke shop.

So, that Wednesday, instead of going to Care of Magical Creatures, the fifth year headed for Professor Snape's office. He waited outside until it was half past two before knocking.

"Come in," Snape replied.

Harish smoothed his hair down slightly before going in.

"Sit," the surly professor said shortly, indicating to the chair across from his desk.

Harish plopped down. His back was fully straight, making it feel as though he were in attention.

"Well, Blake, this meeting is to talk about any career ideas you might have, and to help you decide which subjects you should continue into sixth and seventh years," Snape said in a bored tone. "Have you thought about what sort of career you might want to go into when you leave Hogwarts?"

"Uh," the teen said. "I would like to go into business."

"Business?" Snape asked. All boredness left his voice. The thought of the Blake boy in business was a strange one, what with his prankster reputation.

Harish nodded in reply.

"Well," Snape said, extracting a little leaflet from his desk and opening it. "You don't need much for business. Just an Acceptable in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy…I suppose it really depends on what sort of business you are looking into."

"I was thinking of—of starting a joke shop," Harish mumbled, almost ashamed of saying something like this out loud.

Snape cracked a smile. So that was why the boy wanted to go into business. It made a lot more sense, knowing that he wasn't planning on getting a job where he sat behind a desk all day.

"In that case," Snape replied. "You will need high grades in Potions, Charms, and Transfiguration as well. To create your own business, you really only need to have a clean record. The other subjects just help if you are making your own products."

Harish smiled and nodded.

"If that is all, you may leave," Snape said, waving a hand at the door.

 _BUSINESS—NO-JOKESHOP-BUSINESS!_

The next week, OWL's finally came. The examiners arrived during dinner the night before causing even the twins to lose their appetite. That night everyone did some last minute cramming, stuffing their brain with so much information that was near to bursting.

None of the fifths years talked all that much at breakfast the next morning either. Some would be practicing wand movements at the table while others would flick through their books in between bites. Marcus Belby sat with his fork stuck, motionless above his plate. Harish had almost thought that the boy had been stunned until he noticed that the boy was mouthing spells silently.

Once breakfast was over, all of the fifth years milled around in the Entrance Hall, waiting for their exams to start. Then, at half past nine, they were called forward class by class to take their written exams. When they entered the Hall, Harish almost didn't recognize it.

All of the tables were gone, each replaced with many desks, all facing the staff-table end of the Hall where Professor Flitwick stood facing them all. Once everyone was seating and quiet, he turned over an enormous hourglass squeaking, "You may begin."

On the desk beside him were spare rolls of parchment, quills, and ink.

Harish turned over his paper, his heart thumping hard. He lowered his eyes to the first question: _a) Give the incantation and b) describe the wand movement to make objects fly…_

When Fred read this question, he had a fleeting memory of Enfolding String, a troll, and a soaring club. With a smile, he jotted down the answer with ease…

"That wasn't as bad as I expected," George said lazily as the three of them exited the Great Hall together nearly two hours later.

"Yeah," Fred replied. "I thought it was going to be horrible—"

"It was actually quite easy," Harish said.

"That's for you to say," George complained.

"Mr. I-Could-Cast-the—"

"Cruciatus-When-I-Was-Eleven."

"Shhh!" Harish hushed them, smiling nonetheless.

They ate lunch with the rest of the school before returning to the small antechamber where they were to wait for their practical exam. Then, each of the students were called forward in Alphabetical order. Harish grinned. As he was a 'B', he got to get it over with.

The pale teen entered with the first group of students and went over to one of the examiners and slid his wand out of his holster.

"No need to be nervous, son," the examiner said in a quivery, old voice. "I just need you do make this eggshell here do some cartwheels for me…"

On the whole, Harish thought that he did pretty well. His levitation charm was perfect, of course. He had almost mixed up the incantations for the Color-Change and the Growth Charms, but he had caught himself before he had cast anything. Everything else was relatively easy.

Then, that night there was no time to relax. They went straight to the common room and submerged themselves into Defense Against the Dark Arts for the next day. The trio went to bed, their heads buzzing with complicated theories and numerous wand movements.

The next day he did his written exam fairly well and he knew every single spell for the practical. Then, his examiner had gone so far as to ask to see his patronus for a bonus point. Harish cast it, receiving a cheer from the dotty old man. On Wednesday, they had the Herbology exam. Harish got off with only one bite from the Venomous Tentacula. Then, on Thursday was their Transfiguration exam. That one was by far the hardest, but they all trudged through it. Then, on Friday, the trio had their Potions exam.

Finally it was the weekend. They studied some more and spent the entire time indoors, but Harish enjoyed the chance to sleep in a little.

On Monday they had the day off, as their Astronomy exam was that night. Harish remembered all of the stars well, as he knew most people that were named after them. Then, on Tuesday they had their Ancient Runes exam. Harish was sure he had mistranslated 'ehwaz', mistaking it for 'eihwaz'. Wednesday, they had Care of Magical Creatures where they had to list how to handle a Clabbert, how to approach a hippogriff, and how to take care of bowtruckles. Then, they had their Divination exam last. Harish completely lost his head. He was already tired from two weeks straight of late studying, but the heat of the tower hadn't helped. Harish had ended up saying that his examiner was going to meet a foggy, wet stranger the next day.

Professor Trelawney was sitting outside her classroom, jotting down grades for her third year classes. When Harish walked out, she stopped him.

"How did you think you did?" Trelawney asked in a misty voice. Harish shrugged. "Ah, the Fates had told me that this year would not be a good one academically for some students."

Harish shrugged again. Harish turned awkwardly to leave, but then an odd, raspy voice came from behind him, making him jump nearly straight out of his skin.

" _It will happen tonight…"_

Harish whirled around. Trelawney had gone rigid in her chair, her eyes were unfocused, her mouth sagging. It look slightly scary, if Harish was to be honest. "Excuse me?" Harish asked.

Trelawney hadn't seemed to have heard him. Her eyes started to roll. Harish stood there, torn between disgust and horror. She looked as though she was about to have some sort of seizure. He hesitated, thinking of running away and trying to forget the whole thing, but then she spoke in the same harsh voice:

" _The Dark Lord has been secluded all these years, hidden away…His servant has been chained for twelve years. Tonight, before midnight…the servant will be set free…set free to be short-lived…The Dark Lord will rise, greater and more powerful than ever before…beware the Light…beware the Phoenix…Will be set free…Master…Beware…"_

Trelawney's head fell forward onto her chest. She made a grunting sort of noise. Then, quite suddenly, her head snapped back up again.

"I'm so sorry, dear boy," she said. "Must have drifted off…Are you quite all right?"

Harish nodded wordlessly and ran down the stairs out to the lawns where he found the twins sitting. Finally, the exams were over but Harish was feeling slightly unnerved by his encounter with Professor Trelawney. Then, as they were laying on the grassy lawns near the Forbidden Forest, they saw the Minister arrive. He walked up to the castle, along with the executioner.

 _BUCK-BEAK'S-IN-IT-NOW!_

Ron and Neville went down to Hagrid's as soon as they found out that Buckbeak had lost his appeal. Ron set to making tea, as it was what his mother did when he was upset. Then, he had almost jumped out of his skin.

"Scabbers!" he suddenly cried out.

"What?" Neville asked, confused.

"I—look! Scabbers!"

And sure enough, Scabbers was there, hiding in the milk jug. Ron tipped it upside down and the rat came tumbling out with a squeak and much scrambling to return inside. He grabbed the struggling rat and held him up to the light. He looked worse than ever. He was thinner and so much fur had fallen out that he look nearly bald. He writhed in Ron's hands as though desperate to free himself.

"It's okay Scabbers!" Ron said. "No cats! There's nothing here to hurt you!"

Hagrid suddenly stood up, his eyes fixed on the window. His normally ruddy face was very white.

"They're comin'…"

 _SO—DRAMATIC!_

"There you three are," Hermione said, a hint of a scold in her voice. "We've been looking all over for you!"

"We?" Harish asked.

"Draco, Daphne, and I," Hermione replied. "The other two are looking inside for you. Come on. It's about time to return to the castle, or we'll be in trouble."

Harish stood up and stretched. Then, Dumbledore strode outside, the dying sun gleaming off of his white beard. Behind him was the Minister and then the executioner, Macnair. Harish recognized him as one of his father's followers. The three men were striding down the hills to Hagrid's cozy cabin.

"What's this?" Harish asked.

"I think they are going to execute the hippogriff," Hermione replied in a whisper.

The four of them froze to watch as the official men stopped at Hagrid's door. They could tell that the giant man said something, but it was so faint they couldn't hear what it was. Then, just as the men entered the cabin, Harish saw two heads poke out the back door.

Soon, Ron and Neville had exited, keeping low so that they wouldn't be seen. Then, once they had gotten far enough away, they straightened up and began walking the rest of the way. Darkness was falling fast, and the four Slytherins had started making their way to the castle.

"Here," Harish said, pulling out his cloak. "Get under here so we won't be in trouble when we come back in…"

The four of them got underneath the cloak. Harish was fairly sure their ankles showed, but it was so dark, it would have been hard to spot them. There was a soft padding noise as something ran past them. Then, just as they reached the front steps of the school, they heard a shout, a bark, and a low growl.

* * *

 **Hehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehe! Now comes Sirius Black!**

 **R &R! TTFN!**


	56. Part 5: Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Twelve: Enter Sirius Black—Dogfather**

"RON!" both of the twins shouted, Fred threw off the cloak, heading toward the dark figures. One of them had just been knocked over by a huge animal of some sort. And the creature grabbed the other and disappeared. When George saw Ron disappear, he ran after his twin.

"Hey!" Harish called after them, ridding himself of the cloak as well. "Wait!"

But they continued running. Harish growled and ran after them. After a moment's hesitation, Hermione followed.

 _HERMIONE—MORE-SLYTHERIN-THAN-THEM-ALL_

Ron and Neville went out the back of Hagrid's cabin and kept low so that they wouldn't be seen. Then, they straightened up, Ron clutching a struggling Scabbers. Then, Ron suddenly stopped as they went off the side of the cabin, away from the window and the door.

"Ron—" Neville hissed.

"It's Scabbers, he won't stay put!"

Ron was bent over, trying to keep Scabbers in his pocket, but the rat was going berserk; squeaking madly, twisting and flailing, trying to sink his teeth into Ron's hand.

"Scabbers, it's me, you idiot. It's Ron!" Ron whispered.

They heard a door open behind them and men's whispers.

"Ron! Let's move!" Neville said. "They're going to do it!"

"Okay—Scabbers, stay _put—_ "

They walked forward a couple steps. Ron was completely intent on Scabbers, who was still struggling. Neville was trying his hardest not to listen to the rumble of voices behind them. Ron stopped again.

"I can't hold him—Scabbers, shut up, everyone'll hear us!"

The rat was squealing wildly, but not loudly enough to cover up the sounds coming from the other side of Hagrid's hut. There was a rumble of indistinct, male voices, a suddenly silence, and then, without warning, the unmistakable swish and thud of an axe. Neville swayed on the spot.

A body, low to the ground, was slinking towards them. Neville could make out familiar eyes—the eyes of the devil cat. Scabbers writhed more violently and then—

"OUCH! He bit me!"

"No—shoo—go away!" Neville said, trying to get rid of the cat, but it was getting nearer.

"Scabbers—NO!"

Too late—the rat had finally slipped through Ron's fingers and scampered away. In one bound, the ginger cat was after it before either boy could stop it. Ron darted after his rat, only just managing to grab him as he skidded to a halt against the trunk of a tree.

" _Gotcha!_ Get off, you stinking cat," Ron muttered, shoving the evil creature off of his chest.

Before Neville could catch his breath, there was the pounding of gigantic paws. Something was bounding toward them out of the dark—a huge, pale-eyed, jet black dog.

Neville reached for his wand, but the dog had made an enormous leap and the front paws hit him in the chest, knocking him over. Dazed, Neville sat up just in time to see the dog grab Ron and drag him through a gap in the roots of the tree. Ron hooked his foot around a root, trying to stop the dog from taking him, but with a snap of broken bone, they were gone.

Neville stood up but—WHAP! Something had hit him hard in the face, sending him back ten feet, unconscious. It was right at that point when the twins ran up, skidding to a halt just beyond the reach of the tree Ron had been dragged under—the Whomping Willow.

"Lumos!" Harish said.

His wand lit up, throwing their surroundings into light, making the grass shine silver, and causing the trunk of the Whomping Willow to gleam.

"Where'd your Ron go, then?" Harish asked.

"There," the twins said, pointing to the gap in between the roots.

"I guess you expect us to get in there somehow to help him?" Harish queried helplessly. The twins nodded. "Why? I mean, it's _Ron_ we're talking about."

"He's still our brother," George replied.

Harish stamped a foot. He thought that he had squashed any Gryffindor tendencies out of them! Apparently he had not. The twins started forward, but jumping over branches and ducking to avoid being hit, but soon they were both thrown back near Neville, bleeding.

Then, a cat slunk up to the tree, slithering beneath the branches.

"Crookshanks!" Hermione exclaimed.

Crookshanks placed his front paws on a knot on the trunk. Abruptly, as though the tree had turned to stone, it stopped. Not a leaf quivered or shook.

"How did he know?" Hermione asked, clutching Harish's arm.

He shook her off and shrugged. Then, he helped the twins up. George went first, pulling himself head first down the hole. Fred followed next and then Hermione. With a sigh, Harish finally went down. He slid feet first down an earthy slope to the bottom of a very low tunnel. Crookshanks was a little way ahead, his eyes flashing in the light from Harish's wand.

"This way," George breathed, following Hermione's cat.

"Where does this tunnel come out?" Hermione questioned.

"I am not sure," Harish replied. "It's on the map, but the tunnel goes off the edge of it. I think it goes to Hogsmeade, though."

George lead them along at a very quick pace; or at least, as quick a pace they could go while bent completely double. Crookshanks's tail bobbed in and out of view ahead of them. On and on the passage went. Harish was sure it was as long as the one to Honeydukes. His back was beginning to hurt from being in an awkward position, his head bumped the roof of the tunnel every now and then. His breaths coming in sharp, painful gasps…

And then the tunnel began to rise. Moments later it had twisted, and Crookshanks was gone. Instead, Harish could see a dim patch of light through a small opening. George paused, causing the other three to crash into him. With moans, they all got back up and held their wands ready for whatever they might meet when they exit the tunnel.

The four Slytherins crawled through a whole, staring around at a deserted room. A door stood to their right, leading into a shadowy hallway. Hermione grabbed Fred's arm, her eyes wide. They roamed over the boarded up windows, and then she whispered, "I think we're in the Shrieking Shack."

Harish looked around. His eyes fell on a wooden chair near them. Large chunks had been torn out of it; one of the legs had been ripped off entirely.

"Ghosts didn't do that," he said slowly.

At that moment, there was a creak overhead. Something had moved upstairs. All four of the teenagers looked up at the ceiling. Quietly as they could move, they crept out into the hall and up the crumbling staircase. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust except the floor, where there were tracks of something being dragged upstairs. They reached the dark landing.

"Nox," Harish whispered, his light going out.

Only one door was open. As they crept toward it, they heard movement from behind it; a low moan, and then a deep purring. The four of them exchanged a few last looks before Harish kicked the door wide open, his wand clutched tightly in his hand.

On a magnificent four-poster bed was Crookshanks, purring loudly at the sight of them. On the floor beside him, clutching an ankle that was at an odd angle, was Ron. The twins walked over to him and Harish and Hermione followed more slowly.

"What are you doing here?" Ron asked.

"I don't know," Harish replied, turning to the twins. "What _are_ we doing here?"

"Helping Ron—"

"Of course."

Ron regarded them suspiciously.

"Where's the dog?" Hermione asked.

"There is no _dog_ , Granger. It's a _trap_ ," Ron replied. His teeth were gritted in pain.

"What do you mean?" Harish asked.

" _It's him. He's not a dog, he's an animagus!_ "

Harish wheeled around to see a tall, very thin man shut the door to the room with a snap. He had filthy, matted hair that hung near his elbows. If eyes hadn't been shining out of his deep, dark sockets, he might have been a corpse. The waxy skin was stretched so tight over his face that it resembled a skull. His yellow teeth were bared in a grin. It was Sirius Black.

" _Expelliarmus_!" he croaked, pointing Ron's wand at them.

All four of the Slytherins' wands shot out of their hands and Black caught them. Then he took a step closer. His eyes were fixed on Harish.

"I thought you'd come for your friend," his said hoarsely. He sounded as though he hadn't used his voice in a while. "Your father would have done the same for me. Brave of you not to run for a teacher. I'm grateful…It'll make everything easier…"

"My father?" Harish asked.

His father didn't seem the type to run after anyone.

Ron stood up shakily on his one good leg. Something flickered in Black's shadowed eyes.

"Lie back down," he said quietly to the boy. "You will damage that leg even more."

Ron didn't move. Harish walked over and forced the boy down before setting himself on the dusty bed, across from where Black was still standing.

"I think we have much to talk about," Harish said.

"No," Black said, starting to move toward Ron. "No time to talk. I've waited too long…"

Before Black could take another step, there was another sound—

Muffled steps were echoing up through the floor—someone was downstairs. Every single person in the room froze and listened as they drew nearer. Then, the door swung open to reveal Lupin, standing there, his face bloodless. The professor's eyes took in the room before him. He glanced at Hermione and the twins standing in the corner, then his eyes moved to Ron, who was clutching a squealing Scabbers, to Harish on the bed, and then finally to Black, who was standing in the center of the room.

Lupin then lowered his wand, walked into the room, shut the door behind him, and embraced Black like a brother. Then, he spoke in an odd voice that shook with some suppressed emotion.

"Where is he, Sirius?"

Black didn't say a word. Slowly he lifted a wasted hand and pointed a thin finger at Ron.

"But then…" Lupin muttered. "Why hasn't he shown himself before…Unless—unless you switched without telling me."

Very slowly, Black nodded.

Harish drew his eyebrows together, confused. What was going on here?

"I trusted you!" Hermione suddenly exclaimed. "I kept your secret! And all this time, you've been his friend." She turned to the others. "He's a werewolf! That's why he's been missing classes!"

"How long have you known?" Lupin asked. Though he was pale, his voice was oddly calm.

"Since I finished Professor Snape's essay," Hermione replied.

"Well, well, you really are the brightest witch in your year, but not up to your usual standards. You only got one out of two right. I have not been his friend, but I am now…"

Lupin pulled the wands out of Black's hand.

"Here," Lupin said, tossing their wands back. "You're armed and we're not. Now will you listen?"

They all nodded.

"How did you know he was here?" Harish asked.

"The map," Lupin replied. "The Marauder's Map. I was in my office examining it—"

"You know how to work the map?" Harish asked.

"Of course I know how to work it," Lupin replied impatiently, waving his hand. "I helped write it. I'm Moony—that was my friends' nickname for me in school."

"You _wrote_ —?" The twins asked in awe.

"The important thing is that I was in my office looking at it, because I had an idea that Ron and Neville might try to sneak out of the castle to visit Hagrid before his hippogriff was executed. And I was right wasn't I?" Harish glanced at Ron before turning back to Lupin. Lupin had started to pace up and down the room. Little patches of dust rose at his feet.

"You might have been wearing your father's cloak—"

"My father's—How do you know about it?"

"The number of times I saw him disappearing under it," Lupin replied dismissively. "Anyway, I could still see the four of you on the map as well. Then when Ron and Neville left Hagrid's hut, they were joined by someone else—"

"What do you mean?" Ron asked. "We weren't joined by anyone. There was just the two of us."

"No, the three of you," Lupin plowed on. "And I couldn't believe my eyes. I thought the map was malfunctioning."

"No one was with us!" Ron insisted.

"And then I saw another dot, moving fast past you and towards the three near the willow, labelled _Sirius Black_ …I saw him collide with Neville; I watched as he pulled two of you into the Willow—"

"One of us!" Ron said angrily, but Harish was beginning to understand who the third person was.

"No Ron, two of you," Lupin replied. He had finally stopped pacing and was now staring at Ron. Then he asked evenly, "Do you think I could have a look at that rat?"

"What?" Ron squawked. "What's Scabbers got to do with it?"

"Everything," Lupin replied. "Could I see him please?"

Ron hesitated before holding Scabbers up. The rat was now thrashing so wildly that Ron had to grasp him by his smooth tail. Crookshanks stood up and let out a low hiss. Lupin moved closer to Ron, his eyes fixed on the rat.

Ron held Scabbers close to him again. "What?" he repeated. "What's my rat got to do with anything?"

"That's no rat," Sirius Black suddenly croaked.

"What d'you mean—of course he's a rat—"

"No, he's not," Lupin said quietly. "He's a wizard."

"An Animagus," Black clarified, "by the name of Peter Pettigrew."

* * *

 **Tada! It's the smelly rat that's a traitor to all!**

 **TTFN!**


	57. Part 5: Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirteen: Moony, Padfoot, Wormtail, and Prongs**

"You're both mental," Ron finally said.

Harish couldn't help but think back to that day where he had seen Pettigrew's name on the map. When he should've been face to face with him there was no one there…but he couldn't have been face to face with him if the man had been a rat at the time. It all made sense. Another piece of the puzzle was just put onto the board.

Black bared his yellow teeth and suddenly darted forward, trying to pull the rat out of Ron's fingers. Ron yelled with pain as Black's weight fell on his injured leg.

"Sirius, NO!" Lupin yelled, launching himself forward and dragging Black away from them again. "WAIT! You can't just do it like that—they need to understand—we've got to explain—"

"We can explain afterwards!" Black snarled, trying to throw his friend off. One hand was still clawing at the air as it tried to reach Scabbers, who was squealing like a piglet.

"They've—got—a—right—to—know—everything!" Lupin panted, still trying to restrain Black. "Ron's kept him as a pet! There are parts of it even I don't understand! And Harish—Harry—you owe Harry the truth, Sirius!"

Harish froze. Harry?

Black froze as well, though his hollowed eyes were still fixed on Ron's rat, who was still clutched in Ron's bitten, scratched, and bleeding hands.

"All right then," Black said without taking his eyes off Scabbers. "Tell them whatever you like. But make it quick, Remus. I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for…"

"You're both nutters," Ron said, standing up shakily.

Lupin pointed his wand at the boy.

"You're going to hear me out, Ron," he said quietly. "Just keep a tight hold on Peter while you listen."

"HE'S NOT PETER, HE'S SCABBERS!" Ron yelled, trying to force the rat back into his pocket. Harish got up, shoved Ron back down, grabbed the rat out of his hands, and then rapped him hard on the head. Ron slumped over.

Harish then pulled out his wand and stupefied the struggling rodent.

"There," he said, stuffing the rat in his pocket. "Now you can continue."

"All right…" Lupin said. "You'll need to help me, Sirius. I only know how it began…"

Lupin broke off. There had been a loud creak behind him. The bedroom door had opened of its own accord. All six of them stared at it. The Lupin strode toward it and looked out.

"No one there…"

"This place is haunted," Hermione muttered, "Isn't it?"

"It's not," Lupin said, still looking at the door with a puzzled expression "The Shrieking Shack was never haunted…The howls and screams the village used to hear had always been made by me."

Lupin ran a hand through his graying hair, looking even more tired than ever.

"That's where this all starts—with my becoming a werewolf. None of this would have happened if I hadn't been bitten…and if I hadn't been so foolhardy…I was a very small boy when I was bitten. My parents tried everything, but back then there was no cure. The potion I have been taking is a recent invention. It makes me safe, you see. The week before every full moon I take the potion and during the full moon I keep my head. When I transform…I am able to curl up, a harmless wolf, and wait for the moon to wane again."

"Before the Wolfsbane Potion was invented, I became a fully-fledged monster once a month. It seemed impossible that I would ever be able to go to school. Other parents weren't likely to want their children exposed to me."

"But then Dumbledore became headmaster, and he was very sympathetic. He said that as long as we took certain precautions, there was no reason I shouldn't come to Hogwarts…" Lupin sighed and looked directly at Harish. "I told you months ago that the Whomping Willow was planted when I came to school here, but it was actually planted _because_ I came here. It and the Shrieking Shack were both built for my use. Once a month, I was smuggled out of the castle, into this place, to transform. The tree was placed over the entrance of the tunnel to stop anyone coming across me while I was dangerous."

Harish couldn't exactly see where this was going, but he listened with rapt attention. The room was completely silent as every head was turned to the shabby professor.

"My transformations in those days were—were terrible. It is very painful, to turn into a werewolf. I was separated from humans to bite, so I bit and scratched myself instead. The villagers heard the noise and the screaming and thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits. Dumbledore encouraged the rumour…Even now when the house had been silent for years, the villagers don't dare approach it…"

"But apart from my transformations I was the happiest I had ever been in my life. For the first time ever, I had friends, three great friends. Sirius Black…Peter Pettigrew…and, of course, your father—James Potter—"

"But—" Harish started, but Lupin continued, ignoring his interruption.

"Now my three friends could hardly fail to notice I disappeared once a month. I made up all sorts of stories. I told them my mother was ill, and that I had to go home to see her…I was terrified they would desert me the moment they worked it out, but they didn't desert me at all. Instead they did something for me that would make my transformations easier. They became Animagi."

Harish nodded. It seemed as if another puzzle piece had just been added.

"It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it. Your father and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school and lucky they were too, because the Animagus transformation can go horribly wrong—one reason why the Ministry keeps such a close watch on registered Animagi. Peter needed all the help he could get from James and Sirius. Finally, in our fifth year, they managed it. They could each turn into a different animal at will."

"But how did that help you?" Hermione asked, sounding confused.

"They couldn't keep me company as humans, so they kept me company as animals," Lupin replied. "A werewolf is only a danger to people. So, they snuck out every month under the Invisibility Cloak and though the knot that freezes the tree, The would slip down and join me. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them."

"Hurry up, Remus," Black snarled. He was staring at the lump in Harish's pocket with a horrible sort of hunger on his face.

"I'm getting there, Sirius, I'm getting there…well, highly exciting possibilities were now open to us now that we could all transform. Soon we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the school grounds and village by night. Sirius and James transformed onto such large animals that they were able to keep a werewolf in check. I doubt whether any Hogwarts students ever found out more about Hogsmeade and Hogwarts than we did…And that's how we came to write the Marauder's Map, and sign it with our nicknames. Sirius is Padfoot. Peter is Wormtail. James was Prongs."

"All this year I've been wondering why I haven't told Dumbledore about Sirius being an animagus. But now I know why. I was too cowardly. It would have meant telling him that I had betrayed his trust while I was at school, admitting that I'd led others along with me…and Dumbledore's trust has meant everything to me. He let me into Hogwarts as a boy, and he gave me a job when I have been shunned all my adult life for what I am. And so I convinced myself that Sirius was getting into the school using Dark Arts…so in a way, Snape's been right about me all along."

"Snape?" Black asked, his eyes narrowing. "What's Snape got to do with it?"

"He's here, Sirius," Lupin told him. "He's teaching here as well."

The man turned to the students in the room and said, "Professor Snape was at school with us. He fought very hard against my appointment as teacher here. He has been telling Dumbledore that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons…you see, Sirius here played a rather nasty trick on him that had nearly gotten him killed, a trick which had involved me—"

Black made a derisive noise.

"It served him right," he sneered. "Sneaking around, trying to find out what we were up to…hoping he could get us expelled…"

"Severus was very interested in where I went every month," Lupin told the Slytherins. "We were in the same year and we—er—didn't like each other that much. He loathed James especially…anyway, Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me toward the Whomping Willow to transform. Sirius thought it would be amusing to tell Snape that all he had to so was prod the knot on the trunk with a stick and he'd be able to get in after me. Well, of course he tried it—if he'd got as far as this house, he'd have met a fully grown werewolf—but your father went after Snape and pulled him back, at a great risk to his life."

Harish mouthed, _My father_? once again in confusion.

"Snape glimpsed me at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden by Dumbledore to tell anyone, but I know from that time on he knew what I was…"

"So that is why Professor Snape dislikes you so much," Harish replied slowly. "because he thought you were in on the joke?"

"That's right," sneered a cold voice from the wall behind Lupin.

Severus Snape was pulling off the Invisibility Cloak, his wand pointed directly at Lupin.

* * *

 **Harish has almost figured it out...It's only a matter of time...**

 **TTFN!**


	58. Part 5: Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Fourteen: Harry Potter**

Hermione shrieked in surprise. Black jumped to his feet. Harish felt as though he'd received a huge electric shock.

"I found this at the foot of the stairs," Snape said, throwing the Cloak aside, careful to keep his wand pointing directly at Lupin's chest. "Very useful Potter, thank you…"

Harish had finally had enough.

"Could someone _please_ tell me exactly what's going on here! First of all, my name is Harish Blake. Not _Harry._ Not _Potter._ Blake. Second of all, my father would never act as heroic as you two—" he pointed his wand at Lupin and Black "—are saying. His name isn't James, either. It's Blake. Anata Blake."

Everyone in the room looked at Harish in shock. No one looked more shocked than Sirius Black.

"No!" He cried out, lunging forward. "Your name is Harry Potter. You can't tell me I don't know my own best friends son when I see him!"

"I'm NOT!" Harish shouted.

"Harish," Hermione whimpered as green sparks shot out the end of his wand.

"Enough!" Snape snapped. "Quit babbling on so. I have you now, and that's all that's important. Oh, how I hoped I would be the one to catch you."

"Severus, you're making a mistake," Lupin said urgently. "I can explain. Sirius is not here to kill anyone."

"Two more for Azkaban tonight," Snape said with a gleam in his eyes. "I shall be interested in how Dumbledore takes this…He was so convinced you were innocent…a _tame_ werewolf…"

"You fool," Lupin said softly. "Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back in prison?"

BANG! Thin, snakelike cords shot out of Snape's wand and twisted themselves around Lupin's mouth, wrists, and ankles. He overbalanced and fell to the floor. Black gave a roar of rage and started forward. But Snape pointed his wand straight between Black's eyes.

"Give me a reason," he whispered. "Give me a reason to do it, and I swear I will."

Black stopped dead. It would have been impossible to say which face displayed more hatred for the other.

"Come on all of you," Snape said. With a click of his fingers, the ropes that bound Lupin flew to his hands. "I'll drag the werewolf. Perhaps the dementors will have a Kiss for him too."

Before he had registered what he was doing, Harish had crossed the room in three strides and blocked the door.

"So this is why you were so adamant about finding out every little thing I've done," he said.

"Get out of the way, boy," Snape said. "You're in enough trouble as it is. If I hadn't been here to rescue you—"

" _What_?" Harish asked. " _What_ would have happened? NOTHING! Even if they _were_ trying to kill me, do you think they would SUCCEED?! After everything I've been through—Quirrell tried to kill me—look where it got him!"

"SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!" Snape shrieked. He looked madder than ever; his eyes were wild and sparks were shooting out the end of his wand. "Like father like son, Potter! I have just saved you neck; you should be on the ground thanking me! You would have well been severed if he'd killed you! You'd have died like your father, too arrogant to believe you might be mistaken in Black—now get out of the way or I will _make you_. GET OUT OF THE WAY, POTTER!"

"MY NAME IS NOT POTTER!" Harish roared as his eyes flashed a bright, emerald green. With a swish of his wand, Snape was blasted back into the four poster bed will such force that dust shook from the ceiling and the bed nearly collapsed.

"You shouldn't have done that," Black said. "You should have left him to me."

Harish continued panting. "I don't care."

Black bent over Lupin, who was struggling to escape his bonds. The man cut his friend free. Then, Lupin stood up, rubbing his wrists.

"Thank you, Harish," he said.

"Now," Black said. "It's high time we offered you proof." He held out his hand. "Give me Peter."

Harish pulled the rat out of his pocket and handed it to the escaped criminal.

"Nice touch, by the way," Black said. "With the stunning hex."

"I do have one more question," Harish said. "Out of all the rats in London, how did you know that this one was Pettigrew?"

"You know, Sirius, that is a very good question," Lupin said. "How _did_ you find out where he was?"

Black put a claw-like hand into his filthy robes and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. He smoothed it out and showed it to them. It was the picture of the trip to Egypt. On one end was Harish and the twins, and on the other was Ron, a rat sitting on his shoulder.

"How did you get this?" Lupin asked, thunderstruck.

"Fudge," Black replied. "When he came to inspect Azkaban last year, he gave me this paper. And there was Peter, on the front page…on this boy's shoulder…I knew him at once…how many times had I seen him transform?"

"My God," Lupin said softly. He stared at the picture of the rat then glanced at the actual thing in Sirius's hand. "His front paw...He's got a toe missing."

"All they could find of Pettigrew was his finger," Black said. "And the caption said the boy would be going back to Hogwarts…to—"

He broke off and looked up at Harish, his finger resting on where the fifth year was standing in the picture.

"You have your mother's eyes," Sirius finally said.

Harish felt his eyes prick a little. He had never, in his whole life heard anyone mention his mother before. Black's eyes were full of tears.

"I just about killed them," he said in the merest of whispers. "I thought that if I was their Secret Keeper, Voldemort would suspect me and come after me. I didn't trust myself enough not to crack under torture, so I suggested they switch to Peter at the last moment."

"They, meaning Lily and James Potter?" Harish finally asked.

Sirius nodded. "But now I will reveal Peter for the first time in twelve years."

Lupin held his wand up to the rat and Black retrieved Snape's wand.

"Together?" he asked.

"I think so," Lupin replied. "On the count of three—one—two—THREE!"

A flash of blue light erupted from both wands and hit the rat. For a moment it was suspended in midair, quivering, but then it began to grow larger and larger. Its nose shortened, its arms elongated, and its fur shrank into its body. A moment later, where Scabbers had been, a man now stood wringing his hands.

He was a very short man, hardly taller than Hermione. His thin, colorless hair was unkempt and there was a large bald spot on top of his head. He had a shrunken appearance. As if he had once been very plump, but had lost all of his weight suddenly. His skin looked grubby, almost like Scabbers's fur, and something of the rat lingered around his pointed nose and his very small, watery eyes. He looked around at them all, his breathing fast and shallow. Harish saw his eyes dart from Sirius to the door, to the window, and back again.

"Well, hello, Peter," Lupin said pleasantly, though the cheeriness didn't quite reach his eyes. "Long time no see."

"S-Sirius…R-Remus…" Pettigrew squeaked. Again his eyes darted toward the door. "My friends…my old friends…"

Black's wand arm rose, but Lupin seized him around the wrist, gave him a warning look, and then turned again to Pettigrew.

"We've been having a little chat about the night Lily and James died. You might have missed the finer points while you were squeaking around down there."

"Remus," Pettigrew gasped. Harish could see little beads of sweat break out of his pasty face. "you don't believe him, do you…? He tried to kill me, Remus…"

"So we've heard," Lupin said, more coldly this time. "I'd like to clear up one or two little matters with you, Peter, if you'd be so—"

"He's come to try and kill me again!" Pettigrew squeaked suddenly. He pointed with his middle finger as his index finger was missing. "He killed Lily and James and now he's going to kill me too…You've got to help me, Remus…"

Black's face looked more horrible than ever as he stared at Pettigrew with his fathomless eyes.

"I would rather die!" Sirius shouted. "I would rather die than betray my friends! Lily and James only made you Secret Keeper because I suggested it," he hissed so venomously that Pettigrew took a step backwards. "I thought it was the perfect bluff…Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they'd use a weak, talentless thing like you…It must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters."

"Uh—Mr. Black—Sirius?" Hermione asked.

Black jumped at being addressed like this and stared at Hermione as though being spoken to politely was something he'd long forgotten.

"If you don't mind me asking, how—how did you get out of Azkaban, if you didn't use Dark Magic?"

"Thank you!" Pettigrew gasped, nodding frantically at her. "Exactly! Precisely what I—"

But Lupin silenced him with a sharp look. Black was frowning slightly at Hermione, but not as though he was annoyed with her. He seemed to be pondering his answer.

"I don't know how I did it," he said slowly. "I think the only reason I never lost my mind was because I knew I was really innocent. That wasn't a happy thought, so the dementors couldn't suck it out of me…but it kept me going…it kept me knowing who I was…so when it all became…too much…I could transform in my cell…become a dog. Dementors can't see, you know…" he swallowed. "They feel their way toward people by sensing their emotions…They could tell that my feelings were less—less human, less complex when I was a dog…they would have just thought that I had gone insane like the rest of the prisoners."

"But then I saw Peter in that picture…I realized he was at Hogwarts with—" he broke off once again before he said the name Harry. He wisely knew that the boy wouldn't be happy if he was addressed by this name. Then, he continued on. "So, you see, I had to do something. I was the only one who knew Peter was alive…"

Harish remembered what the twins had said on the train at the beginning of the year. _"Dad says that before he escaped, he was muttering in his sleep, 'He's at Hogwarts',"_ Black hadn't been talking about Longbottom after all, but Scabbers—Pettigrew.

"It was as if someone had lit a fire in my head, and the dementors couldn't destroy it…It wasn't a happy feeling…it was an obsession…but it gave me strength, it cleared my mind. So, one night when they opened my door to bring food, I slipped past them as a dog…it's so much harder for them to sense animal emotions that they were confused…I was thin, very thin…thin enough to fit through the bars…I swam as a dog to the mainland…I journeyed north and slipped into the grounds here as a dog. I've been living in the forest ever since, except when I came to watch the Quidditch match, of course. You fly well…"

He looked at Harish, who did not look away. Another puzzle piece had been fit into place. That was why he had seen the dog in the stands; he hadn't been imagining it.

"Believe me," Sirius said. "Please believe me when I tell you that you _are_ Harry Potter. I don't know why you look different—but your eyes are the same. I know deep down that Harry isn't dead and that you are him."

Sirius pulled another piece of paper out of his robes. This one was a picture of a woman and a man. The woman had bright red hair and emerald green eyes. Though they were different shades, he knew that they were the same shape. Harish looked away and everyone in the room stared at him with bated breaths. The final piece of the puzzle was then put on the table, completing the whole picture. His unknown mother, his flashing eyes, the blob on the map, the mystery memory he relived every time he got near a dementor, it all made sense now.

Finally, he looked back at Sirius, surprised to find that there were now tears in his own eyes, and nodded.

"No!" Pettigrew finally howled.

Everyone turned to look at him. Sirius seemed to have only just remembered that he was there. He walked forward and grinned.

"Shall we kill him together?" he asked.

"I think so," Lupin replied grimly.

"Wait!" Harish called out as they both raised their wands.

Both men turned and looked at him in surprise.

"Harish," Lupin said. "This man—"

"I know what he is, but you can't kill him! If you do, no one will believe that you are innocent! You will be sent back to prison. We'll take him up to the castle. Then, the dementors can have him."

Sirius stepped back, shocked. He obviously hadn't thought of that.

"Very well," he said.

" _Incarcerous!_ "

Ropes shot out of Lupin's wand and the next moment, Pettigrew was wriggling on the floor, bound and gagged.

"Right," Lupin said, suddenly business like. "I can't mend bones, so we'll just have to take Ron up to the Hospital Wing."

"What about Professor Snape?" Hermione asked.

"There's nothing seriously wrong with him," Lupin said, bending over to check his pulse. "You were just a little—overenthusiastic, Harish. Still out cold. Uh—perhaps it will be best if we don't revive him until we're safely in the castle. We can take him like this…"

He muttered " _Mobilicorpus."_ Pointing his wand, first at Snape, and then at the still unconscious Ron. As though invisible strings were tied to their wrists, neck, and knees, the two unconscious figures was pulled into a standing position, heads lolling unpleasantly. Lupin picked up the Invisibility Cloak and handed it to Harish, who tucked it into his pocket.

"And two of us should be chained to this," Black said, nudging Pettigrew with his toe. "Just to make sure."

"We'll do it," the twins said.

Black conjured heavy manacles from thin air and soon Pettigrew was upright again and chained to Fred's right hand and George's left. Crookshanks leapt of the bed and led the way out of the room, his bottlebrush tail held jauntily high.

* * *

 **R &R&TTFN**


	59. Part 5: Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Fifteen: Who Am I?**

In all of Hogwarts, there had never been a stranger looking group. Crookshanks led the way down the stairs and into the tunnel once more. Behind him was Lupin, causing Snape and Ron to float about behind him. Ron, he was careful not to let hit the ceiling, Snape…he was a bit more careless with. Behind those three were Fred, George, and Pettigrew. They had to walk sideways, with Pettigrew in between them. Behind them was Hermione. And Sirius and Harish brought up the rear.

"You could come and live with us," Harish finally said. "Your place is probably gone by now, since you were in prison for so long. I don't know if you would want to, but you could always stay with me and my father."

"Why wouldn't I want to?" Sirius asked.

Harish didn't reply, instead chose to shuffle along. His jaw was moving slowly as he pondered on how he should phrase what he was about to say.

Finally, he replied quietly so that only Sirius could hear, "I was adopted by Lord Voldemort."

"WHAT?!" Sirius shouted, straightening up and banging his head on the roof of the tunnel. Everyone ahead of them stopped and shot Sirius a look of confusion.

Once they started moving again, Harish said, "Yes, now would you please keep it down? It's not like he mistreats me or anything. He actually had grown to care for me over the years."

"Yes, but he _killed your parents_ ," Sirius hissed in return.

Harish shrugged. "It honestly doesn't make that much of a difference to me. I mean, I never knew them, did I? I am perfectly happy with my new father."

Sirius took a deep calming breath.

"As surprising as it is," he said. "I would honestly rather live with you and— _him_ than lose you again. So, if you'll have me, I'll stay."

"So you wouldn't mind living with the man who killed your best friend?"

"Well," Sirius said. "I certainly wouldn't like it, but I'd manage to get through. I don't have much against the Dark side. The only reason I went to the Light was because I was wanting to rebel against my family." Harish shot him a questioning look. "My mother wasn't the nicest person."

Harish snorted.

"Plus," Sirius continued. "I wouldn't want to return to the Light side now—Dumbledore knew the whole time I was innocent and left me in prison to rot."

They fell into an uneasy silence.

Then, Sirius broke the silence one last time, "Um—could—would it be all right if I still call you Harry?"

Harish turned to looked at the man—his Godfather—and didn't know what to say. If someone heard the man calling him Harry, they might be able to find out who he really was, but…Harish couldn't say no as Sirius looked at him with hope, resembling a dog that's waiting to be adopted.

"Sure," Harish finally replied.

Sirius's gaunt face broke into the first smile Harish had ever seen upon it. It was startling how much difference that one smile made. Sirius appeared at least ten years younger.

They did not speak again until they had reached the end of the tunnel. Crookshanks darted up first; he had evidently pressed his paw on the knot on the trunk, because Lupin exited without any sound of savaging branches. Once this was realized by everyone else, they all followed. At last they were all out.

The grounds were very dark now. The moon was covered by clouds and the only lights came from the distant windows of the castle. Without a word, they set off. Pettigrew was still wheezing and occasionally whimpering. Harish's mind was buzzing with a mixture of confusion and contentment. He had a godfather…a godfather who knew about his mother, no less…But at the same time Harish wondered: If he wasn't really Harish Blake, but Harry Potter, who was he, really? His whole life had been a lie…

Silently they tramped through the grounds, the castle lights growing slowly larger. Snape was still drifting weirdly ahead of Lupin, and so was Ron. And then—

A cloud shifted. There were suddenly dim shadows on the ground. Their party was bathed in moonlight. At once, Snape and Ron fell to the ground and the twins and Pettigrew collided with Lupin, who had stopped abruptly. Sirius froze and flung out an arm to make Harish and Hermione stop.

Harish could see their professor, silhouetted against the moon. He had gone rigid. Then, his limbs began to shake.

"Oh, my—" Hermione gasped. "It's the full moon! He hasn't taken his potion!"

"He's not safe," Harish finished in a horrified whisper.

"Run," Sirius muttered. "Run. Now."

"What about the twins?" he asked.

"Leave it to me—RUN!"

Harish didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed Hermione and dragged her away, running as fast as he could. Behind them, there was a horrible snarl. Lupin's head was lengthening. So was his body. His shoulders were hunching. Hair was sprouting visibly on his face and hands, which were curling into paws. Crookshanks's hair was on end again; he was backing away.

As the werewolf reared, Sirius was gone, replaced by a huge black dog. The twins frantically back away as Padfoot leaped straight over them and began battling the werewolf.

"Do you have your wand?" Fred asked.

"Not where I can reach it!"

Both boys groaned.

George crawled forward, finding a rock and beginning to hit the chain he was bound with. The chain broke and he reached for his wand. Then, there was a flash of light. Both twins turned in time to see Pettigrew standing there, holding Lupin's wand.

George slashed his wand down, breaking the chain that held his brother, and then they both raised their wands and pointed them straight at Peter's chest.

"Don't move!" they shouted.

There was another flash of light and George fell to the ground beside Ron. A second later, Pettigrew was gone with a flash of a bald tail. Fred turned to see the werewolf bound away into the woods.

"He's gone!" Fred shouted to Sirius. "Pettigrew escaped!"

The dog was bleeding from a slash across his muzzle and a gash on his back, but instantly he scrambled to his feet and was gone in an instant, the sound of his paws faded away across the grounds.

Fred dashed over to George. His eyes were only half closed, his mouth hung open; he was definitely alive, but he didn't seem to recognize his twin brother.

After a moment of decision, he began to run up to the castle. Then, he dropped to the ground as a spell hit him square in the back.

 _JUST-HARISH-AND-HERMIONE-LEFT_

Harish and Hermione ran deep into the forest. Then, they stopped by a rather large tree near the lake, panting heavily.

"What do you think is going on?" Hermione asked. Harish shook his head. "Do you think it is safe to return to the castle."

"I don't know…" Harish muttered. He slid down the trunk of the tree and rested his chin on his knees. Then, there was a howl nearby. Hermione jumped and both of their hearts started pounding in their chests.

"Is that him?" she squealed.

Harish motioned for her to be quiet. Then, he peeked out from behind the tree. Just ten feet away was Lupin. Then, the werewolf bounded away as a horrible cold swept over them once again. Harish ran to where the wolf had been standing. From there he could see the shores of the lake. Lying down there on the rocks was Sirius. He had transformed back into a man.

The two Slytherins walked over to him and the temperature dropped dramatically. Harish then glanced up and saw that there were hundreds and hundreds of dementors swooping down towards them. The familiar icy fog was swirling into his brain, obscuring his vison…

"Hermione, think of something happy!" he said, blinking furiously to try to clear his vision. Then, he began to chant, _"Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum!"_

He tried, but no memories would come. How was he supposed to be happy if he didn't even know who he was?

" _Expecto patronum!"_ Hermione said, copying his movements. A tiny wisp of silver shot out of her wand.

Black gave a shudder, rolled over, and lay motionless on the ground, pale as death.

" _Expecto patronum! Expecto…"_

Harish was forced to his knees. Fog was completely clouding his vision. Beside him there was a small thump as Hermione fainted. He was alone…he was completely alone…

" _Expecto—Expecto patronum—"_

A dementor drew close to him, halted by his small patronus. A small slimy hand protruded from its cloak and it made a gesture, as though to sweep the patronus aside.

"Expecto…"

He could feel them watching him, hear their rattling breath like a horrible, freezing wind around him. The nearest dementor seemed to be considering him. Then, it raised both its rotting hands—and lowered its hood.

Where there should have been eyes, there was only skin, thin scabbed skin stretched blankly over empty sockets. But there was a mouth…a gaping, shapeless hole, sucking the air with the sound of a death rattle.

A paralyzing fear filled Harish so that he couldn't move or speak. His patronus flickered and died. White fog was blinding him…he couldn't see…and in the distance he heard a familiar scream, steadily growing louder…

A pair of strong clammy hands suddenly attached themselves around Harish's neck. They were forcing his face upward…He could feel its breath…It was going to get rid of him first…His mother was screaming in his ears…She was going to be the last thing he ever heard—

And then, through the fog that was drowning him, he saw a silvery light growing brighter and brighter…He felt himself fall forward onto the grass—

Facedown, too weak to move, sick and shaking, Harish opened his eyes. The dementor had released him. The light was blinding…illuminating the grass around him…the screaming had stopped…and then blackness closed in on him as his head hit the ground, and he fainted.

* * *

 **TTFN**


	60. Part 5: Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: Me no own HP**

* * *

 **Chapter Sixteen: The Resolve of Gryffindor Tendencies**

 _Tear filled, emerald green eyes looked down at him. A strand of red haired fell into the most beautiful face he had ever seen. He wanted to ask her if she was an angel, but he couldn't move even his mouth._

" _I love you," she whispered in a choked voice. "Always remember this, Harry. Mumma loves you…Dada loves you…"_

 _He felt safe, safer than he had ever been in his life. A pair of arms closed around him in a hug and tears flowed down his cheeks. He had never cried that much in his life, but right then, he didn't care. Then, there was high laughter and a flash of green light._

"Black is in Flitwick's office, where he can't escape… It's in a tower, you see."

"Yes, that is very well thought out, Minister."

"Shocking business…shocking…miracle none of them died…never heard the like…by thunder, it was lucky you were there, Snape…"

"Thank you Minister."

"Order of Merlin, Second Class, I'd say. First Class, if I can wangle it!"

"Thank you very much indeed, Minister."

"Nasty cut you've got there…Black's work I suppose?"

"As a matter of fact, it was Mr. Blake, Minister…"

" _No!_ "

"Black had bewitched him, I saw it immediately. The others as well. A Confundus Charm to judge by their behavior. They seemed to think he was innocent. They weren't responsible for their actions. On the other hand, their interference might have permitted Black to escape…They obviously thought they were going to catch Black single handed. They've got away with a great deal before now…I'm afraid it's given them a rather high opinion of themselves, Blake especially."

"Ah, well, Snape, I'm sure you are exaggerating slightly. No child in their right mind would go after a man like that. Blake especially. I have met him before, you know. He is Lucius Malfoy's nephew…"

Harish lay listening with his eyes shut very tight. He felt very groggy. The words he was hearing seemed to be traveling very slowly from his ears to his brains, so that it was difficult to understand…His arms and legs felt like lead; his eyes glued shut…He wanted to lie there forever, on that comfortable bed….

"What amazes me most is the behavior of the dementors…you've really no idea what made them retreat, Snape?"

"No, Minister…by the time I had come 'round they were heading back to their positions at the entrances…"

"Extraordinary. And yet Black, and Harish, and the girl—"

"All unconscious by the time I reached them. I bound and gagged Black, naturally, conjured stretchers, and brought them all straight to the castle."

There was a pause. Harish's brain seemed to be moving faster now, and as it did, a gnawing sensation grew in the pit of his stomach…

He opened his eyes. The first the he noticed was that his face was wet. He wiped his tears on the sleeve of his robes. The second thing he noticed was that it was very dark still. He was lying in a bed in the Hospital Wing. To his left, slumped over in chairs, were Daphne and Draco. Daphne had dark circles under her eyes. Her chest was rising and falling in a slow pattern.

At the very end of the ward, Madam Pomfrey was standing with her back to him, bent over a bed. Harish could just make out a shock of red hair, but he couldn't tell which Weasley it was, as the matron was blocking his view.

Harish moved his head over on the pillow. In the bed to his right lay Hermione. Moonlight fell across her bed, illuminating her open eyes. She looked petrified, and when she saw he was awake, she pressed a finger to her lips, then pointed to the door. It was ajar, letting a dim yellow light pool into the room, and the voices of Cornelius Fudge and Severus Snape were coming through it from the corridor outside.

Madam Pomfrey now came walking briskly up the dark ward to Harish's bed. He turned to look at her. She was carrying the largest block of chocolate he had ever seen in his life. It looked like a small boulder.

"Ah, you're awake!" she said briskly. She placed the chocolate on his bedside table and began breaking it apart with a small hammer.

"How are the twins?" both he and Hermione asked at the same time. The last time either of them had seen the boys were when a werewolf was rampaging feet away from them.

"Both of them knocked out," she replied. "As for you two, you'll be staying here until I'm satisfied you're—Blake, what do you think you're doing?"

Harish was sitting up, grabbing his wand off of the bedside table.

"I need to see someone," he said. "Fudge—Dumbledore—anyone!"

"Blake," Madam Pomfrey said soothingly, "it's all right. They've got Black. He's locked away upstairs. The dementors will be performing the Kiss any moment now—"

"WHAT?"

Harish jumped out of bed and Hermione did the same. His shout woke Daphne and Draco, as well as it had been heard in the corridor outside; next second, Fudge and Snape had entered the ward.

"Harish, Harish, what's this?" Fudge asked, looking irritated. "You should be in bed—has he had any chocolate?"

"Minister, listen!" Harish started. "Sirius Black's innocent! Peter Pettigrew faked his own death! We saw him tonight! You can't let the dementors do that thing to Sirius, he's—"

But Fudge was shaking his head with a small smile on his face.

"Harish, Harish, you're very confused. You've been through a great ordeal, lie back down, now, we've got everything under control…"

"NO!" Harish shouted. "YOU'VE GOT THE WRONG MAN!"

"Minister, listen, please," Hermione said; she had hurried to Harish's side and was gazing imploringly at Fudge's face. "I saw him too. It was Ron's rat, he's an Animagus, Pettigrew, I mean, and—"

"You see, Minister?" Snape said. "Confunded, both of them…Black's done a very good job on them…"

"WE'RE NOT CONFUNDED!" Harish roared.

"Minister! Professor!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed angrily. "I must insist that you leave, Blake is my patient and he should not be distressed!"

"I'm not distressed, I'm trying to tell them what happened!" Harish replied furiously, "If they'd just listen—"

"But Madam Pomfrey suddenly stuffed a large chunk of chocolate into his mouth; he choked and she seized the opportunity to force him back onto the bed.

"Now _please_ , Minister, these children need care. Please leave."

As Harish sat, thinking and chewing, he suddenly realized that Sirius needed to stay a secret. If Dumbledore knew that he was innocent, then he would try to get the man back on his side. He may even find out who Harish really was. There was no way he could let that happen.

As he realized this, Dumbledore himself walked into the ward. Harish swallowed his chocolate with great difficulty and stood up again.

"Professor Dumbledore, Sirius Black—"

"For heaven's sake!" Madam Pomfrey said hysterically. "Is this a Hospital Wing, or not? Headmaster I must insist—"

"My apologies, Poppy but I need a word with Mr. Blake and Miss Granger…"

As they began to argue, Harish stepped over to stand beside Hermione and whispered in her ear, " _They must not know he's innocent._ "

Hermione shot him a confused look but Harish raised an eyebrow before turning back to the Headmaster.

"I suppose Black's told you the same fairy tale he's planted in the children's minds?" Snape spat. "Something about a rat, and Pettigrew being alive—"

"That, indeed, is Black's story," Dumbledore replied, surveying Snape closely through his half-moon glasses.

"And does my evidence count for nothing?" Snape snarled. "Peter Pettigrew was not in the Shrieking Shack, nor did I see any sign on him on the grounds."

Dumbledore sent him a glance. Harish let his head go limp before snapping it back up again.

"I would like to speak to Harish and Hermione alone," Dumbledore said sharply as Snape opened his mouth to say something else. "Cornelius, Severus, Poppy, Mr. Malfoy, Miss Greengrass—please leave us."

"Headmaster!" Madam Pomfrey sputtered. "They need bed rest—"

"This cannot wait," Dumbledore said calmly. "I must insist."

And so, with a few last words, each of the adults slowly left. Then, Draco and Daphne followed silently. Then, Dumbledore shut the door behind them.

"Now, to get down to business," he said, walking over to them. Harish shot Hermione a look that told her to leave the talking to him. "Is Sirius Black innocent?"

"I don't know sir," Harish replied, sounding and looking completely innocent. He pushed his memory of confusion, and not knowing who to trust to the surface of his mind. The rest of it, he locked away where Dumbledore wouldn't be able to see it.

"Did you see Pettigrew?"

"No."

"What about Mr. Weasley's rat?"

"It was there."

"Was it missing a toe?"

"…No."

Harish felt as though he was being x-rayed. Then, Dumbledore said, "Very well. I trust you. Now. I am going to lock you in. I advise you to get some sleep—both of you."

And with that he walked out of the room, thinking that Sirius Black was just deluded from his time in Azkaban.

As soon as he was out of the room and the door was shut once more, Hermione walked over to Harish. She pulled something out of her robes and threw it around their necks.

"What are you—"

"Hush, we don't have much time before Madam Pomfrey returns," she said, turning a little hourglass as she spoke.

She turned it three times. Harish reached out a hand to bring it closer so that he could see what it was, but Hermione slapped his hand away.

"Do you have a watch?" she asked.

"It's five minutes to midnight," he said, checking it. She nodded.

When he looked up, a blur of colors were rushing past them. It felt as if he was flying backwards. Harish's ears were pounding. He tried to yell, but he couldn't hear his own voice. And then solid ground was beneath his feet again and everything had come into focus.

He was standing next to Hermione in the deserted entrance hall and a stream of golden sunlight was falling across the paved floor from the open front doors. He looked wildly around at Hermione, the chain of the hourglass cutting into his neck.

"Hermione, what?"

"In here!"

Hermione seized his arm and dragged him across the hall to the door of a broom closet; she opened it, pushed him inside among the buckets and mops, then slammed the door behind them.

"What—how—Hermione, what happened?"

"We've gone back in time," Hermione whispered, lifting the chain off of Harish's neck. "Three hours back…"

Harish found his leg and gave it a hard pinch to make sure he wasn't still unconscious, and dreaming.

"But—"

"Shhh! Listen! Someone's coming! I think—I think it might be me!"

Hermione had her ear pressed against the cupboard door.

"Footsteps across the hall…yes, I think it's me going outside to look for you!"

"Are you telling me that we're in this cupboard we're outside too?"

"Yes," Hermione said, ear still glued to the door. "I'm sure it's me. It doesn't sound like more than one person…and I'm walking quickly so that I can get you three goons inside before we all get in trouble…"

She trailed off, still listening intently.

"I've gone down the front steps…"

Hermione sat down on an upturned bucket, looking desperately anxious, but Harish wanted answers to his questions.

"Where did you get that thing?"

"It's called a Time-Turner," she whispered, "and I got it from Professor McGonagall on our first day back. I've been using it all year to get to my classes. Professor McGonagall made me swear not to tell anyone about it. She had to write all sorts of letters to the Ministry of Magic so I could have one. She had to tell them I was a model student and that I'd never, ever use it for anything except my studies, but now…"

"Now you have betrayed her trust?"

Hermione nodded miserably.

"Look, can't we get somewhere where we can see what's going on?"

"No!" Hermione exclaimed. "We cannot be seen!"

"I have my cloak!" Hermione looked hesitant. "Look, we'll need to go out there, anyway."

"Why?"

"When I first woke up, Fudge was telling Snape that they put him in Flitwick's office so that he can't escape. His office is in the North Tower, about five floors up! We need to get Buckbeak, unless you think all three of us can fit on a broom."

"Fine," Hermione replied. "We'll rescue Buckbeak…But we can't mess our timelines up any more than that!"

Harish nodded and pulled the Cloak out of his pocket. He threw it around the two of them and they exited the cupboard. Once they had gotten outside, they saw that the sun was slowly crawling toward the bottom of the sky.

"We need to go around the right side of the cabin," Hermione whispered as they walked slowly toward it. "Neville and Ron exit the left side."

"I believe I can safely say that this is the weirdest thing I have ever done," Harish whispered in return.

"Let's move along a bit," Hermione muttered. "We need to get closer to Buckbeak."

They crept over to the trees behind where the hippogriff was. Harish started forward, so that they could get the hippogriff and be done with it.

"No!" Hermione whispered. "We can't get him until the Minister sees him! Otherwise, he'll think that Hagrid set him free!"

Harish groaned.

"I don't care if the gamekeeper's blamed! If we don't get it now, we'll only have about sixty seconds to set it free!"

He started forward again. Hermione tugged at his arm. Just then, the Minister walked outside along with Dumbledore and the executioner.

"See?" Hermione hissed. "If you had gone then, they would have seen you!"

Harish rolled his eyes, but stayed put.

The men walked down to the cabin and knocked on the front door.

"I'll be there in a minute!" Hagrid called out.

His back door swung open and Ron and Neville poked their heads out of the back. Harish looked up the hill to see himself, Fred, George, and Hermione turn to look at the cabin.

"This is so weird," he muttered.

Hermione shushed him and he rolled his eyes again.

Ron and Neville were out of sight now, as they were creeping along the opposite side of Hagrid's hut. Hagrid then stomped to the door and let the men inside.

"Where is the beast?" came the cold voice of Macnair.

"Out—outside," Hagrid croaked.

Macnair's face appeared at Hagrid's window, staring at Buckbeak. Then, they head Fudge,

"We—er—have to read you the official notice of execution, Hagrid. I'll make it quick. And then you and Macnair need to sign it. Macnair, you're supposed to listen too—that's procedure—"

Macnair's face vanished from the window. It was now or never.

"Wait here," Harish whispered to Hermione. "I'll do it."

He took the cloak off and stuffed it into his pocket again. Hermione ducked behind a tree so that she couldn't be seen. As Fudge's voice started again, Harish darted out from behind his tree, vaulted the fence into the pumpkin patch, and approached Buckbeak.

" _It is the decision of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures that the hippogriff Buckbeak, hereafter called the condemned, shall be executed on the sixth of June at sundown—"_

Careful not to blink, Harish stared up into Buckbeak's fierce orange eyes once more and bowed. Buckbeak sank to his scaly knees and then stood up again. Harish slashed the rope tying Buckbeak to the fence with a cutting spell.

"… _sentenced to execution by beheading, to be carried out by the Committee's appointed executioner, Walden Macnair_ …"

"Come on, Buckbeak," Harish murmured, "come on, we're going to help you. Quietly…quietly…"

"… _as witnessed below._ Hagrid, you sign here…"

Harish threw all his weight onto the rope, but Buckbeak dug his front feet into the dirt.

"Well, let's get this over with," came Macnair's reedy voice. "Hagrid, perhaps it will be better if you stay inside—"

"No I—I wan' ter be with him…I don' wan' 'im ter be alone—"

Footsteps echoed from within the cabin.

" _Move, Buckbeak!_ " Harish hissed, getting out his Cloak, just in case.

He tugged harder on the rope around the hippogriff's neck. It began to walk, rustling its wings irritably. They were still ten teen away from the forest, in plain view of Hagrid's back door.

"One moment, please, Macnair," Dumbledore said. "You need to sign too."

The footsteps stopped. Harish heaved on the rope. Buckbeak snapped his beak and walked a little faster. Hermione's white face was sticking out from behind a tree."

"Hurry, Harish," she mouthed.

Harish could still hear Dumbledore's voice talking from within the cabin. He gave the rope another wrench. Buckbeak broke into a grudging tort. They had reached the trees…

"Quick! Quick!" Hermione moaned, darting out from behind the tree to help.

She seized the rope and the two of them pulled on it to make the hippogriff go faster. Harish looked over his shoulder; they were now blocked from sight. They couldn't see Hagrid's garden at all.

"Stop!" he whispered to Hermione. "They might hear us—"

Hagrid's back door opened with a bang. Harish, Hermione, and Buckbeak all stood quite still. Even the hippogriff seemed to be listening intently. There was silence for a moment…then—

"Where is it?" Fudge asked. "Where is the beast?"

"It was tied here!" Macnair shouted furiously. "It was just here—I saw it!"

"How extraordinary!" Dumbledore said, with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Beaky!" Hagrid said huskily.

There was a swishing noise, and the thud of an axe. The executioner seemed to have swung it into the fence in anger. Then came the howling, and this time they could hear Hagrid's words through his sobs.

"Gone! Gone! Bless his little beak, he's _gone_! Musta pulled himself free! Beaky, yeh clever boy!"

Buckbeak started to strain against the rope, trying to get back to his master. Harish and Hermione dug their heels into the ground to stop him. Then, with some difficulty, they dragged him back and tied the rope around a tree for the moment.

"Someone untied him!" Macnair was snarling. "We should search the grounds, the forest!"

"Shouldn't we search the skies?" Fudge asked. "I mean, he _is_ a winged beast after all."

"Do what you must," Dumbledore said. "But I would like something to drink, Hagrid. A cup of tea would do. Or a large brandy."

"O'—o' course Perfessor," Hagrid replied. His voice was weak with happiness. "Come in, come in…"

Harish and Hermione listened closely. They heard footsteps, the soft cursing of the executioner, the snap of the door, and then silence once more.

"Now what?" Harish asked, untying the rope from the wide tree trunk.

It was odd, asking that question. Usually he was the one being asked.

"We'll have to hide in here," Hermione said, who looked very shaken. "We need to wait until they've gone back. Then, we can wait until it's safe to fly Buckbeak up to the castle. Sirius won't be there for another couple of hours…Oh, this is going to be difficult…"

She looked nervously over her shoulder into the depths of the forest. The sun was setting now.

"We are going to have to move," Harish said. "We will need to see the Whomping Willow so that we can see what is going on."

"Okay," Hermione said, getting a firmer grip on Buckbeak's rope. "But we've got to—"

"Stay out of sight, yeah, yeah, I know…"

They moved around the edge of the forest, darkness falling thickly around them, until they were hidden behind a clump of trees through which they could make out the Willow.

"There goes Ron," Harish said, pointing to where Ron sprinted toward the Willow after Pettigrew.

" _Gotcha!_ Get off, you stinking cat _—_ "

"There's Sirius!" Hermione exclaimed.

A giant black dog bounded out of the forest, past the entrance to Hogwarts, and to Ron, knocking Neville over in the process. He and Ron disappeared out of sight with a shout and Hermione winced when the boy's foot was broken.

"There are the twins," Harish muttered.

The twins had seemingly appeared out of thin air and were darting towards the Willow. Then, Harish and Hermione appeared before dashing after them.

"Hey! Wait!" the other Harish called.

"It looks even worse from here, doesn't it?" He asked, watching as Neville was thrown back. "Ouch—look, George just got walloped by the tree—and so did Fred—this is _weird—_ "

The Whomping Willow was creaking and lashing out with its lower branches; they could see the twins darting here and there, trying to get closer to the trunk. Harish was standing out of reach of the branches with Hermione. Then, the tree suddenly froze.

"That was Crookshanks pressing the knot," Hermione said.

"And there we go…" Harish muttered. "We're in."

The moment they disappeared, the tree began to move again. Seconds later, they heard footsteps quite close by. Dumbledore, Macnair, and Fudge were making their way up to the castle.

"Wow," Harish said with a laugh. "Look how close we were to getting caught."

"Right after we had gone into the passage!" Hermione said.

They watched the three men climb the castle steps and disappear from view. For a few minutes, the scene was deserted. Then—

"Here comes Lupin!" Harish said as they saw another figure sprinting down the stone steps and haring toward the Willow. Harish looked up at the sky. Clouds were obscuring the moon completely.

The watched Lupin levitate a branch from the ground and prod the know with it. The tree stopped fighting, and Lupin disappeared as well, right into the gap in its roots.

"If only he had grabbed the Cloak," Harish said. "It's just lying there…"

"You're not going out there to get it," Hermione told him.

"Of course not!" Harish said holding up his own version. "I still get it back!"

A moment later Hagrid made his way up to the castle, singing at the tops of his lungs, and weaving slightly as he walked. A large bottle was swinging from his hands.

"Ugh," Harish said wrinkling his nose. "Is he drunk?"

Hermione shook her head before straining to hold Buckbeak as he tried to get to Hagrid again.

"No, Buckbeak!" she hissed.

Harish grabbed the rope and helped her hold the hippogriff. They watched Hagrid meander tipsily up to the castle. Once he was gone, Buckbeak stopped fighting to get away. His head drooped sadly.

Harish rubbed his beak.

Barely two minutes later, the castle doors flew open yet again, and Snape came charging out of them, running toward the Willow. Harish laughed quietly when he slipped on the Cloak. Then, the man looked at it a second, holding the liquid cloth in his hands, before throwing it on himself and disappearing. Harish and Hermione saw a long branch hover in mid-air, a lone hand holding the end of it. It prodded the knot on the trunk and then dropped to the ground.

"So that's it," Hermione said quietly. "We're all down there now…"

"All we do is wait," Harish said.

Hermione tool the end of Buckbeak's rope and tied it to the nearest tree. Then, she sat down on the dry ground, arms around her knees. Harish sat down beside her a moment later with a grunt.

"There's something I don't understand…" Hermione said after a minute. "Why didn't the dementors get Sirius? I remember them coming, and then I think I passed out….there were so many of them…"

"Someone made them retreat," Harish replied. "Right before I passed out as well, all I could see was this blinding light that was forcing the dementors back. It was _really_ powerful, though. Then, something huge and silver flew out over the three of us."

"Who cast it?" Hermione asked.

"Well—no—it's crazy…"

"What's crazy? Who did you see?"

"I thought I saw my father, but there is no way he could have been there."

Harish looked over at where Buckbeak was digging worm out of the ground. He wasn't really watching, though. He was thinking. He was thinking about his real parents and his father, Voldemort. If Voldemort had killed his parents, intending on killing him, why hadn't he done it? Why did he choose to adopt him instead? Harish shook his head. It was too confusing to think about.

The leaves rustled overhead in the breeze. The full moon drifted in and out behind the flowing clouds. Hermione sat with her face turned toward the Willow, waiting. Harish let out a sigh and laid back with his hands under his head. And then, at last, after an hour of staring up at the sky…

"Here we come!" Hermione whispered.

She and Harish got to their feet. Buckbeak raised his head. They saw Lupin, Ron, and Snape emerge from the tunnel, followed by Fred, Pettigrew, and George. Next came Hermione, Harry, and Black. They all began to walk up to the castle.

Harish's heart started beating very fast. He looked up at the sky. At any moment the cloud was going to move to the side and uncover the moon. Harish watched with bated breath as the moon slid out from behind its cloud. They saw the tiny figures across the grounds stop. Then they saw movement—

"There goes Lupin," Hermione whispered. "He's transforming."

"Hermione, we've got to move."

"But we can't—"

"Interfere, I know. But what if Lupin comes our way?"

Hermione gasped before scrambling up to untie Buckbeak.

"Quick!" she moaned. "Quick! Where are we going to go? Where could we hide? The dementors will be coming any moment—"

"Back to Hagrid's!" Harish exclaimed. "It is empty now—come on!"

They ran as fast as they could, Buckbeak cantering behind them. They could hear the werewolf howling behind them…

The cabin was in sight. Harish skidded to the door, wrenched it open, and ushered Hermione and Buckbeak inside. Then he followed and shut the door quickly behind him. Fang the boarhound barked loudly.

"Shhh! Fang! We won't hurt you!" Hermione exclaimed, hurrying over to quiet him. "That was really close!" she said to Harish.

"Yeah, it was," he agreed, pointing out the window. Over by trees, sniffing where they had just been sitting for the past hour, was the werewolf.

"You don't think he'll follow our scent here?" Hermione asked worriedly.

Harish shook his head.

"We, I mean the other we, would have been able to hear if he—he—"

"Yeah…"

Buckbeak trotted over to the fire, laying down contently and folding his wings above his head. He seemed ready for a good nap.

"I think I'd better go outside again, you know," Harish said slowly. "I cannot see what's going on—we won't know when it is time—"

Hermione looked up suspiciously.

"I'm not going to try to interfere," Harish said quickly. "But if we don't see what is going on, how are we going to know when it's time to rescue Sirius?"

"Well…okay, then…I'll wait here with Buckbeak…but Harish, be careful—there's a werewolf out there—and the dementors—"

Harish shook his head as he stepped outside again and edged around the cabin. He could hear yelping in the distance. That meant the dementors were closing in on Sirius…He and Hermione would be running into him any minute…

Harry stared out toward the lake, his heart doing a kind of drumroll in his chest, Whoever had sent that patronus would be appearing at any moment. For a fraction of a second, he stood irresolute in front of Hagrid's door. _You must not be seen_. But he didn't want to be seen. He wanted to see. He had to know…

And there were the dementors, They were emerging out of the darkness from every direction, gliding around the edges of the lake…They were moving away from where Harry stood to the opposite bank…He wouldn't have to go near them…

Harish began to run. He had just realized something. ..

The lake was coming nearer and nearer, but there was no sign of anybody. It seemed as if Harish's hunch was proving to be right. On the opposite bank, he could see tiny glimmers of silver—his attempts at a patronus.

There was a bush at the very edge of the water. Harish threw himself behind it, peering through the leaves. On the opposite bank, the glimmers of silver suddenly vanished. A terrified excitement shot through him. It was a foreign feeling, something he had never felt before.

Then, he leapt out and shouted, _"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_

Out of the end of his wand burst his huge basilisk. It flew across the lake and stared the dementors down, causing them to fly away back to their posts. Huge waves of light radiated out of his wand, going outwards. The dementors were retreating…They were gone.

The great serpent turned and came back toward Harish. It stopped on the bank. It left no trace that it was there and it gave out light. It stared at Harish with its large eyes. Slowly, it bowed its head and disappeared.

Then he heard hooves behind him—the teen turned just in time to see Hermione dashing toward him, dragging Buckbeak behind her.

" _What did you do?_ " she asked fiercely. "You said you were going to keep a lookout!"

"I just saved all our lives…" Harish replied evenly. "Get behind here—behind this bush—I'll explain."

Hermione listened to what had just happened with her mouth hanging open.

"Did anyone see you?"

"Yes, haven't you been listening? _I_ saw me but I thought I was my father. That's why I could cast the patronus so well. I knew I could do it because—well—I had already done it! Does that make sense?"

"I don't know—Harish, look at Snape!"

Together they peered around the bush at the other bank Snape had regained consciousness. He was conjuring stretchers and lifting the limp forms of Harish, Hermione, and Sirius onto them. Three stretchers floated behind him, each containing a shock of red hair.

"What happened to the twins?" Harish asked, watching as Snape moved away toward the castle with the stretchers ahead of him.

"I don't know," Hermione said, looking at her watch. "We've got about forty-five minutes until we need to be back in the Hospital Wing again. We've got to rescue Sirius and get back into the ward before anyone realizes we're missing…"

They waited, watching the moving clouds reflecting in the lake. The bush next to them whispered in the breeze. Buckbeak, bored, was ferreting for worms again.

"Do you think he is up there yet?" Harish asked, checking his own watch.

He looked up at the castle and found Flitwick's office.

"Look!" Hermione exclaimed quietly. "Who's that? Someone's coming back out!"

The two of them stared through the darkness and watched as a man hurried across the grounds, toward one of the entrances. Something shiny glinted in his belt.

"Macnair!" Harish whispered. "The executioner! He must be going to get the dementors!"

Hermione put her hands on Buckbeak's back and Harish helped her up. Then, he placed his foot on a nearby branch, put his hands on Buckbeak's back, and swung himself onto the hippogriff in front of Hermione. He pulled Buckbeak's rope back over his neck and tied it to the other side of his collar like reins.

"Ready?" he whispered to Hermione. "You'd better hold on to me—"

He nudged Buckbeak's sides with his heels.

Buckbeak soared straight into the dark sky. Harish gripped his flanks with his knees, feeling the great wings rising powerfully beneath them. Hermione was holding Harry very tight around the waist; he could hear her muttering, "Oh, no—I don't like this—oh, I _really_ don't like this!"

Harish urged Buckbeak forward. They were gliding quietly toward the upper floors of the castle…Harry pulled hard on the left-hand side of the rope, and Buckbeak turned. Harish was trying to count the windows flashing past—

"Whoa!" he said, pulling backward as hard as he could.

Buckbeak slowed down and they found themselves at a stop, unless you counted the fact that they kept rising up and down several feet as the hippogriff beat his wings to remain airborne.

"He's there!" Harish said, spotting Sirius as they rose up beside the window. He reached out, and as Buckbeak's wings fell, was able to tap sharply on the glass.

Black looked up. Harry saw his jaw drop. He leapt from his chair, hurried to the window, and tried to open it, but it was locked.

"Stand back!" Hermione called to him as she took out her wand.

" _Alohamora!"_

The window sprang open.

"How—how—?" Black asked weakly, staring at the hippogriff.

"I had a random resolve for Gryffindor tendencies," Harish replied as he helped the convict onto Buckbeak's back.

" _What?"_ Sirius asked.

Harish and Hermione both laughed.

"You've got to get out of here—the dementors are coming—Macnair's gone to get them."

Black nodded and gripped the hippogriff firmly.

"Okay, Buckbeak, up!" Harish said, shaking the rope. "Up to the tower—come on!"

The hippogriff gave one sweep of its mighty wings and they were soaring upward again, high as the top of the West Tower. Buckbeak landed with a clatter on the battlements, and Harish and Hermione slid off him at once.

"Sirius, you'd better go, quick," Harish panted. "They'll reach Flitwick's office any moment, they'll find out you're gone."

Buckbeak pawed the ground, tossing his sharp head.

"Just—just come to Ottery St. Catchpole once summer starts. That's near where the twins live. I'll get you then and you can come and live with us."

"How can I ever thank—"

"GO!" Harish and Hermione shouted together.

Sirius wheeled Buckbeak around, facing the open sky. He squeezed Buckbeak's sides with his heels. Harish and Hermione jumped back as the enormous wings rose once more… The hippogriff took off into the air…He and his rider seemed to become smaller and smaller as Harish gazed after them…then a cloud drifted across the moon…They were gone.

* * *

 **TTFN**


	61. Part 5: Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Seventeen: What Does it Matter?**

Finally Harish turned back to Hermione.

"How much time have we got?" he asked.

Hermione looked at her watch and her eyes widened.

"We've got exactly ten minutes to get back down to the Hospital Wing without anyone seeing us—before Dumbledore locks the door—"

"Okay," Harish replied. "Let's go."

They slipped through the doorway behind them and down a tightly spiraled staircase. As they reached the bottom of it, they heard voices. They flattened themselves against the wall and listened. It sounded like Fudge and Snape. They were walking quickly along the corridor at the foot of the stairs.

"…only hope Dumbledore's not going to make difficulties," Snape was saying. "The Kiss will be performed immediately?"

"As soon as Macnair returns with the dementors. This whole Black affair has been highly embarrassing. I can't tell you how much I am looking forward to informing the _Daily Prophet_ that we've got him at last… I daresay they'll want to interview you, Snape…and once the children are in their right minds, I am sure they will want to give a statement about exactly how you saved them…"

Harish gritted his teeth. He had never had a problem with his Head of House before, but now he didn't like the man at all. Even before, Snape acted suspiciously…like he had some sort of thought to what was going on within his house.

He glimpsed Snape's smirk as he and Fudge passed Harry and Hermione's hiding place. Their footsteps died away. Harry and Hermione waited a few minutes to make sure the men had gone, then they started runnin in the opposite direction. Down one staircase, then another, along a corridor—then they heard a cackling ahead.

"In here!" Harish muttered, grabbing Hermione's wrist.

They tore into a deserted classroom to their left just in time. Harish peeked out to see Peeves bouncing along the corridor in boisterous spirits, laughing his head off.

"Peeves," Harish informed her.

They listened to the cackling for a moment.

"He's horrible," Hermione said as his voice faded away. "I bet he's all excited because the dementors are going to finish off Sirius…"

Harish pulled out his Invisibility Cloak.

"We'll have to be under this so Dumbledore doesn't see us," Harish said. "Do you think you can make a run for it under the Cloak?"

Hermione nodded and the two of them got underneath the Cloak. Then, Hermione exclaimed as she checked her watch, "Three minutes, Harish!"

"Come on!"

And they broke into a run again, clutching the cloak. Afraid their feet were showing, Harish disillusioned himself and Hermione so that there was no chance their feet could be seen. Then he cast a spell that would muffle their footsteps. He only hoped it was enough to stop Dumbledore from knowing they were there. He half suspected that the old man could sense other people's presences.

"Hermione—what will happen—if we don't get back inside—before Dumbledore shuts us in?" Harish panted.

"I don't want to think about it," Hermione replied, checking her watch again. "One minute!"

They reached the end of the corridor with the Hospital Wing entrance. "Okay—I can hear Dumbledore," Hermione said tensely.

"Come on," Harish whispered.

The two of them crept slowly, quietly to the door of the ward. There, Dumbledore was holding it open saying, "I trust you. Now. I advise you to get some sleep—both of you."

As he was saying this, Harish and Hermione both ducked under his arm and got inside the ward. Then, they walked over to where they were pulling out the Time Turner, about to leave.

"Do you have a watch?" Hermione asked as she turned the hourglass thrice.

They started to disappear and the last thing they heard was Harish replying, "It's five minutes to midnight."

Then, the other Harish and Hermione pulled the Cloak off and climbed into their beds. Harish stuffed his Cloak into his shirt and lay back as Hermione slipped the Time Turner back underneath her robes. It was very odd, being back in the Hospital Wing like nothing happened, just after they had gone of a time-crunching rescue mission.

Then, Madam Pomfrey walked out of her office and strode over to them.

"Did I hear the headmaster leaving?" she asked, looking around at the silent ward. "Am I allowed to look after my patients now?"

She was in a very bad mood. Harish and Hermione thought it best to accept their chocolate quietly. Madam Pomfrey stood over them, making sure they ate it. But Harish could hardly swallow. He and Hermione were waiting, listening, their nerves jangling…And then, as they both took a fourth piece of chocolate from Madam Pomfrey, they heard a distant roar of fury echoing from somewhere above them.

"What was that?" Madam Pomfrey asked in alarm.

Now they could hear angry voices, growing louder and louder. Madam Pomfrey was staring at the door.

"Really—they'll wake up the whole castle! What do they think they're doing?"

Harish was trying to hear what the voices were saying. They drew nearer and Harish listened intently.

"He must have disapparated, Severus. We should have left someone in the room with him. When this gets out—"

"HE CAN'T DISAPPARATE!" Snape roared. Either he was shouting loud enough to wake the dead now, or they were getting very close. "YOU CAN'T APPARATE _OR_ DISAPPARATE INSIDE THIS CASTLE! THIS—HAS—SOMETHING—TO—DO—WITH—BLAKE!"

"Severus—be reasonable—Harish has been lock up—"

BANG.

The door of the Hospital Wing blasted open.

Fudge, Snape, and Dumbledore all came striding into the ward. They all looked very angry. Harish had never seen Dumbledore without the twinkle in his eyes, and it was slightly disturbing. Fudge appeared more angry than him, as he was most likely hiding his anger under a mask. But Snape was beside himself.

"OUT WITH IT, BLAKE!" he bellowed. "WHAT DID YOU DO?"

"Professor Snape!" Pomfrey shrieked. "Control yourself!"

"See here, Snape, be reasonable," Fudge tried. "This door's been locked, we just saw—"

"THEY HELPED HIM ESCAPE, I KNOW IT!" Snape howled, pointing at Harish and Hermione. His face was twisted, spit was flying from his mouth.

Both of them looked alarmed. Their Head of House had never acted this way to a Slytherin before.

"Calm down, man!" Fudge barked. "You're talking nonsense!"

"YOU DON'T KNOW HIM LIKE I DO!" Snape shrieked, his voice climbing in pitch. "HE DID IT, I KNOW HE DID IT—"

"That will do, Severus," Dumbledore said quietly. He was still angry that Black escaped. "Think about what you are saying. This door has been locked since I left the ward ten minutes ago. Madam Pomfrey, have these students left their beds?"

"Of course not!" Pomfrey shot back, bristling slightly. "I would have heard them!"

"Well, there you have it, Severus," Dumbledore said calmly. "Innocent until proven guilty. Unless you can offer some sort of proof…"

Snape stood there, seething. He was staring at Fudge, who looked thoroughly shocked at his behavior, to Dumbledore, who was obviously still trying to work out how Black escaped. Snape whirled about, robes swishing behind him, and stormed out of the ward.

"Fellow seems quite unbalanced," Fudge muttered, staring after him. "I'd watch out for him if I were you, Dumbledore."

"Oh, he's not unbalanced," Dumbledore replied, the twinkle returning to his eyes. "He's just suffered a severe disappointment."

"He's not the only one!" Fudge puffed. "The _Daily Prophet_ 's going to have a field day when they learn of this! We had cornered Black and he slipped through our fingers once again! All I need now is for them to learn of the escaped hippogriff and I'll be a laughing stock! Well…I'd better go and notify the Ministry…"

"And the dementors?" Dumbledore queried. "They'll be removed from the school, I trust?"

"Oh, yes, they'll have to go," Fudge said, running his fingers distractedly through his hair. "Never dreamed they'd attempt to administer the Kiss on an innocent boy…Completely out of control…no, I'll have them packed off back to Azkaban tonight…Perhaps we should think about dragons at the entrance…"

"Hagrid would like that," Dumbledore said as the two of them left the Hospital.

Once they had gone, Madam Pomfrey hurried to the door and locked it again. Muttering angrily to herself, she headed back to her office. There were low moans coming from across from Harish and Hermione. The twins had woken up.

"What happened—?"

"Why are we here—?"

"Where's Lupin?"

"Where's Sirius?"

Harish and Hermione looked at each other.

"You explain," Harish said, helping himself to more chocolate.

When Harish, Hermione, and the twins left the ward the next day, they were immediately greeted by Draco, Daphne and Ginny. Daphne hugged Harish and Ginny hugged both of the twins. The castle was deserted. The sweltering heat and the end of the exams ensured that everyone else went down to Hogsmeade for one last trip of the year. Neither Harish, nor Hermione felt like going, so they stayed behind and explained to Daphne and Draco exactly what had happened the night before. They wandered the grounds, wondering to each other where Sirius was then, and where Pettigrew had gone since he had escaped.

Harish highly doubted that his father would accept the rat back. How was he supposed to trust a man like that? The man was so useless, Harish wondered why his father let him become a Death Eater in the first place. Harish lost his train of thought as he sat on the edge of the lake, staring at the now blue-green water. A lazy tentacle drifted toward the surface.

What did it matter that he was actually Harry Potter? He was Harish Blake now, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

 **Yay! R &R if you want to see part six!**

 ***TTFN**


	62. Part 6: Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter One: Whoops—We Muggle Baited Your Cousin**

Harish Blake was beside himself with glee once the holidays actually started. He went over to the twins' house a couple weeks after they returned home to retrieve Sirius. Then, they went to Slytherin manor. To Harish's surprise, Sirius actually got on pretty well with Voldemort. The Gryffindor seemed to forget who the man really was, as he had changed so drastically over the past fourteen years.

Harish talked to Sirius and sent letters to Hermione, explaining to the both of them how he had helped spread rumors that Hermione was Sirius's daughter and the three of them agreed that Hermione should be magically adopted by Sirius in order to protect her. Sirius didn't mind at all, thinking it was some sort of joke. Hermione, on the other hand, had been really worried that her parents would be upset at first. Then Harish had explained to them why it was so important that Hermione be known as the daughter of Sirius Black in the Wizarding World. So, he sent Hermione a potion to take via his father's owl, Augustus, and Hermione took it.

On top of that, Voldemort had stayed true to his word the year before and bought them tickets for the Quidditch World Cup. It wasn't a big stretch to change the tickets for three to tickets for four. Voldemort was actually kind of glad that Sirius was going to the World Cup with his son, so they would be chaperoned at least a little.

Harish also didn't mind the presence of his godfather, as he wanted to get to know the man anyway. Normally he would have kicked up a fuss, saying that they could do well enough on their own, as they were almost sixteen and had passed their OWL's.

As it turned out, the Weasleys had gotten tickets to the World Cup as well. So, at five o'clock the week before they were going to arrive, Harish, Draco, and Sirius flooed to the Burrow. Draco was going to be staying with them at the tournament as well. His parents had been invited by the Minister, but they weren't staying any nights. They were just going to be there for the opening of the match.

Sirius was put under heavy disguises and was armed with a brand new wand. The Weasleys had asked about him (minus Ginny and the twins) and the Slytherins had all told them that the new man was Harish's uncle, Arata Blake.

A couple days after they arrived at the Burrow, Sirius woke Harish up early—well, it was early for the sixteen-year-old's standards. In reality it was only seven o' clock.

"Rise and shine!" Sirius exclaimed.

Harish moaned and buried his face in the pillow.

"Come on," his godfather whined. "The twins and Draco are already awake."

"Don't tell me you woke them up, too," Harish mumbled into his pillow.

"I won't say a word," Sirius said with a grin.

Harish split one eye open and looked at him. Then, with a heavy sigh, he sat up.

"Fine," he huffed. "I'm up. Now what do you want?"

"We are going sightseeing!" Sirius exclaimed.

Ten minutes later, Harish, Draco, and the twins were standing on the front lawn of the Burrow, dressed in Muggle attire. Sirius was marching back and forth in front of them.

"We are going to be observing Muggles today, boys," he was saying.

Draco was looking at the jeans he was wearing in disgust.

"You want me to wear trousers in public?" the fourteen-year-old boy whined. "That's barbaric!"

"No," Sirius replied. "It's blending in. Before you leave Hogwarts, you need to learn how to function in the Muggle World. If you go traipsing around in robes, the Muggles will get suspicious, endangering the Statue of Secrecy."

"Now," Sirius said with a grin. "Let's go!"

And he began walking briskly down the path to the village nearby. The twins followed eagerly and Harish and Draco followed more reluctantly. As they entered the village Harish and Draco gaped around, staring at the cars and the electricity.

"Rule one," Sirius said. "Don't gape. People will certainly notice if you do. Rule two, no comments about how different their society is. The word Muggle is a forbidden word in their world."

Then, Sirius walked up to the nearest Muggle.

"Excuse me," he said, tapping her on the shoulder. "I am new to town. Can you tell me where the nearest restaurant is?"

The woman nodded and pointed out a shop along the left side of the road. Sirius grinned.

"Come on, boys," he said.

They went inside the restaurant, which turned out to be something Sirius called a _"Pizzeria"_. The five of them went inside, got a table, and each got some pizza. Both Harish and Draco, who had never tasted pizza before, were astonished.

"Who knew They could make such good food!" Draco exclaimed happily.

"I don't think I have ever eaten something with so much grease!" Harish added.

Sirius laughed at them. The twins were too busy stuffing their faces to do anything.

Then, they began to talk in low voices about Sirius. As almost everyone in the Burrow didn't know Sirius was innocent, they could not ever mention his name while they were there. So, the five of them took the advantage to talk about what Sirius was going to do about the Ministry.

"You should just make your disguise permanent," Harish suggested. "Then you wouldn't have to worry about reapplying spells."

"I don't know…" Sirius replied hesitantly.

"Don't worry, Sirius," Draco said in a joking manner. "You're new appearance is just as handsome as your previous one."

"Do you think so?" the man asked over dramatically, sweeping a hand through his shoulder-length, dark brown hair.

The color of it resembled Harish and his father's. As Harish had pale green eyes, and Voldemort's had pale blue one's, they kept Sirius's eyes the same color, but altered the shape of them to the same as the Dark Lord's. Another thing about the disguise, was that Sirius had completely lost his shrunken, haunted, unkempt look. Harish personally preferred the new one over the old one.

"No," Sirius finally said. "I would miss my old appearance. It isn't too much of a hassle to apply glamours while we're out in public."

Harish pouted at the fact that his idea was turned down.

The five of them soon threw away their trash and got up to pay for their meal at the front counter. When the man working there said how it would cost, Sirius frantically searched his pockets before he realized that he had no Muggle money. Then, the muttered, "Confundus," and the man's eyes glazed over. Then he quietly wiped his memory.

Sirius rushed them out of the shop and they were so afraid someone would know that Sirius Black did magic in Ottery St. Catchpole, that they didn't notice the small family of three standing outside the restaurant until Harish walked straight into them.

"What do you think you're doing?" the man asked.

He was largely obese with a thick, toothbrush mustache and small, beady eyes. His son was even more obese, and was looking at them with his little piggy eyes. The man's wife stood behind her husband. She was tall and thin. She had a horse-like face and large, bony hands.

"Sorry," Harish said sarcastically. "I didn't see you there."

Draco snorted. It was a wonder that was even possible, they were so large.

The man huffed, turning purple and opened his mouth to say something. His wife was staring at Harish unpleasantly, looking him up and down. She was making a face as if she had just swallowed a particularly sour lemon. It was impossible to tell which face held more disgust; Harish's or the woman's.

Then, the twins dropped tons of candies, that were in their pockets. They began scrambling to pick them up, and stuffed them in their pockets. Harish knew what those candies were, but he didn't say anything.

Before the pig of a Muggle could say anything, Sirius grabbed Harish's shoulders and steered him away from the family. Then, behind them, they could hear a gagging sound. They all turned to see the obese boy bent over, gagging and sputtering on a foot-long, purple, slimy thing that was protruding from his mouth—his tongue. The twins fought of grins and Harish watched with interest. Sirius looked like he was about to pass out from panic, but Draco simply looked confused.

"Oh," Sirius said weakly. "He must've—must've had an allergic reaction to the sweet…uh…"

The woman had fallen to the ground and was clutching her son, trying to pry his arms away from his head.

"Dudley! Diddykins!" she squealed. "Diddykins, what's wrong?"

Harish was now fighting off laughter as well. People all along the street were stopping to stare.

"Here!" Sirius said, finding something for Dudley to eat. "Make him eat this—it's anti-swelling!"

The obese man threw himself in front of his wife, shielding her and his son from view.

"Now really!" Sirius exclaimed. "I'm trying to help!"

"You can fix him?" the man growled, jabbing a meaty finger to his son.

Sirius nodded. The man moved his wife after she had just managed to pry Dudley's hands from his face. His tongue was huge now. Sirius managed to get him to eat whatever he had pulled out of his robes and while the boy was chewing, Sirius discreetly cast a spell that made the tongue shrink back into the boy's mouth.

Then, he grabbed Harish and the twins and rushed them out of the town, Draco straggling along behind. On the pathway to the Burrow, Sirius was muttering, "That was close…that was really close…"

"What?" Harish asked. "We didn't even know them. I don't think they could tell we were wizards. You did some pretty good acting."

"That's not what we would need to worry about," Sirius said.

"What do you mean? I thought we went there to learn how to blend in, in the first place."

"I mean, she already knows about magic!" Sirius replied quietly.

" _What?"_ All four boys asked.

"That was your Aunt, Harry. Your mother's sister."

"My mother's…?"

"Yes, Petunia. She never liked magic. She thought that any person who was able to perform magic was some sort of freak."

"So that was why she was looking at me like that!" Harish exclaimed. "She must have recognized me!"

"Exactly," Sirius replied.

A couple days later, two more Weasleys arrived. One of them was Charlie. He had been one of the one's that had kicked up a fuss when the twins were sorted into Slytherin. He didn't look much different—just a bit more freckled and his hands were now hard and calloused. The other one was most likely the oldest Weasley brother, Bill. He had long red hair, tied back in a ponytail. He had a dragon-tooth earing and dragon hide boots. Harish decided that he liked Bill. He was much more laid back than Ron, Percy, and Charlie.

Then, that evening Neville Longbottom arrived. He was invited by Ron. The Weasleys had bought him tickets to the cup since Harish's father had already bought tickets for the twins.

The next day, they all ate dinner out in the garden. Bill and Charlie moved two large tables outside, where they were draped in table cloths and laden down with food. Then, once everyone was seated, conversation bounced back and forth.

"I'm almost done with my report," Percy stated to no one in particular (since no one wanted to listen).

"Oh yes, your report for cauldron bottoms," Ron said sarcastically. "It'll change the world, it will."

Percy frowned, his ears turning very red.

A little further down the table, Mr. Weasley was saying, "This year's cup is going to be Ireland versus Bulgaria. Ludo Bagman helped to get us such good tickets. I did him a bit of a favour: His brother, Otto got into a spot of trouble—a lawnmower with unnatural powers—I smoothed the whole thing over."

"Oh, yes Bagman has no trouble getting _Quidditch_ tickets," Percy said, "but how he ever got to be Head of Department…when I compare him to Mr. Crouch! I can't see _him_ losing a member of our department and not trying to find out what's happened to them. You realize Bertha Jorkins had been missing for a month…"

"Mr. Crouch," Fred said, leaning over to Harish. "Percy worships him."

"Always _'Mr. Crouch...'_ this and _'Mr. Crouch…_ ' that."

"…Yes, I was asking Ludo about that," Mr. Weasley was saying, frowning. "He says Bertha resigned. Sent in a letter…"

"She was on vacation!" Percy said. "What reason did she have to resign? She never even came in to the office to resign...And especially resigning while we're setting up a big organization."

Percy cleared his throat significantly and looked down the table to where the twins were sitting. " _You_ know which one I'm talking about, Father." He raised his voice slightly. "The top-secret one."

The twins both rolled their eyes and George leaned over muttering, "He's been trying to get us to ask what it is all summer."

"Oh, _that_?" Draco asked. "I know what it is…I'll tell you later…"

In the middle of the table, Mrs. Weasley was arguing with Bill about his earring.

"..with a horrible fang on it too. Really, Bill, what do they say at the bank?"

Mum, no one at the bank gives a damn how I dress as long as I bring home plenty of treasure," Bill replied patiently.

"And your hair's getting silly, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, fingering her wand. "I wish you'd let me give it a trim…"

"I like it," Ginny said; she was sitting beside Bill. "You're so old fashioned, Mum. Anyway, it's nowhere near as long as Professor Dumbledore's…"

On the right side of them, Ron and Charlie were talking animatedly about Quidditch.

"It's got to be Ireland," Charlie said thickly through a mouthful of potato. "They flattened Peru in the semifinals."

"Bulgaria has got Victor Krum, though," Ron replied.

"Krum's one decent player, Ireland has got seven," Charlie said shortly. "I wish England had got through. That was embarrassing, that was."

On Bill's left, the twins were talking with Sirius about pranks and joke products.

"So Harish tells me that the three of you are pranksters," Sirius said. The twins nodded. "It kind of reminds me of myself, James, and Remus. We got into so much trouble when we were at Hogwarts ourselves. I remember one time we got detention on the first day of the term one year for putting Whizzing Worms in Snape's trunk. Before he found them, he had thought that it was on fire…"

"Yeah we're making joke products," Harish told his new godfather.

"Really?" Sirius asked, looking astounded.

"Really," the twins replied.

"We've been having trouble naming them though," Fred said.

"We thought of calling them Weasley's Wizard Wheezes—"

"But Harish isn't a Weasley…"

"What about Weasley and Company? It has a nice ring to it," Sirius suggested.

"Weasley and Co. huh?" Harish asked.

"What are you planning on doing with your joke products?" Sirius asked.

"Well, first we are going to sell them at Hogwarts," Harish said.

"And then we're gonna start a joke shop," the twins said in unison.

The garden grew dark soon and Mr. Weasley conjured up candles to light the table. Then, they ate homemade strawberry ice cream, and by the time they had finished, moths were fluttering low over the table, and the warm air was perfumed with the smells of grass and honeysuckle. As everyone was growing sleepy, Mr. Weasley looked at his watch.

"Look at the time," he said. "You children should be in bed—the whole lot of you. You'll be up at the crack of dawn to get to the Cup. Harish, if you leave your school list out, I'll get your things for you tomorrow in Diagon Alley. I understand Draco already has his? I'm getting everyone else's. There might not be time after the World Cup, the match went on for five days last time."

"Wow, I hope it does this time!" Harish said enthusiastically. Every child at the table was secretly hoping that it would last long enough for them to miss some school.

"Well, I certainly don't," Percy said with a sniff. "I _shudder_ to think what the state of my in-tray would be if I was away from work for five days."

"Yeah, someone might slip dragon dung in it again, eh, Perce?" Fred asked.

"That was a sample of fertilizer from Norway!" Percy said, going very red in the face. "It was nothing _personal_!"

"It was," George muttered as they got up from the table. "We sent it."

* * *

 **And now we know what the joke shop will be named! Read and Review!**

 **~TTFN**


	63. Part 6: Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Two: The Boot On the Hill**

For the record, Harish did _not_ like waking up early. Once he had nearly thrown Draco out the window (he was on the third floor in a room that overlooked the grassy hills surrounding his manor) because the boy had woken him up too early on Christmas morning. Another time, he had smacked Dobby across the room because he slept in when he was supposed to be having lessons with his father. Harish had no idea why he liked to sleep so late, but it was absolute torture for him to get up before he absolutely had to.

So, the next morning, it had felt like Harish had only just laid down to sleep when he was being shaken awake by Draco…why was it always Draco? Harish vaguely wondered this before rolling over and closing his eyes again.

"Harish!" Draco exclaimed, poking the older boy.

Harish lashed out, and then fell back asleep. The next moment, he was being shaken again. He slid his eyes open. Above him were Fred and George. Draco was standing behind them, sporting a swiftly swelling black eye.

"What happened to you, Draco?" Harish yawned, sitting up.

"Why did he smack me, but not you?!" Draco howled, holding a cold, wet rag up to his face.

"I smacked you?" Harish asked, laughing.

"He's known you too long," George muttered.

"Too much Draco—" Fred broke off and he and his twins shuddered.

"Come on," they both said.

Draco and Harish followed them down the zig-zag of stairs down to the kitchen. There Mrs. Weasley was stirring the contents of a large pot on the stove, while Mr. Weasley was sitting at the table with Sirius, checking a sheaf of large parchment tickets. Sirius was reading a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ , his own stack of five tickets sitting beside him. The two men looked up as the boys entered and spread his arms so they could see his clothes more clearly. He was wearing a golfing sweater and a very old pair of jeans, slightly too big for him and held up with a thick leather belt.

"What do you think?" he asked. "We're supposed to be going incognito—do you think I look Muggle enough?"

Harish nodded, smiling at Sirius as they both remembered their trip into the Muggle World.

"Where're Bill and Charlie and Per-Per-Percy?" George asked, failing to stifle a huge yawn.

"Well, they're apparating, aren't they?" Mrs. Weasley replied, heaving the large pot over to the table and starting to ladle porridge into bowls. "So they can have a bit of a lie-in."

"So they're _still_ in bed?" Harish asked grumpily, pulling a chair up next to Sirius.

The three other Slytherins smirked at him.

"Why can't we Apparate, too?" Fred asked.

"Because you're not of age yet and you haven't passed your test," Mrs. Weasley snapped. "And where has Ginny gotten to?"

She bustled out of the kitchen and they could hear her climbing the stairs.

"We'll be seventeen in April," George said moodily, slopping some porridge back into his bowl.

"You're lucky," Harish mumbled. "I'll be sixteen the whole year…"

"Don't worry," Sirius said with a smile. "Apparating isn't all it's cracked up to be."

Mr. Weasley nodded, gulping some porridge down.

"I threw up the first time I managed it," he said.

"Of course, then there's Splinching," Sirius added.

Everyone at the table winced. Splinching was when you Apparated, but left a bit of yourself behind.

"But Bill, Percy, and Charlie can all do it without being Splinched?" Harish asked.

"Charlie had to take the test twice," Fred said with a grin. "He failed the first time—"

"Apparated five miles south of his original destination, right on top of some poor old dear doing her shopping, remember?"

"Yes, well, he passed the second time," Mrs. Weasley said, marching back into the kitchen amid the hearty sniggers.

"Percy only passed two weeks ago," George continued. "He's been Apparating down the stairs just to prove he can."

There were footsteps down the staircase and Ginny, Ron, and Neville came into the kitchen, looking pale and tired.

"Why do we have to be up so early?" Ginny asked, rubbing her eyes and sitting down next to George.

"We've got a bit of a walk," Mr. Weasley said.

"Walk?" Harish asked faintly. "We're _walking_ to the Cup?"

"Oh, no that's miles away," Mr. Weasley said dismissively. "No, we're only walking up the hill to our portkey. We'll be meeting with the Diggorys as well. They live nearby…"

"Oh, yeah," Harish said. "Isn't the reason we came here in the first place was because no Portkeys could be arranged near the manor?"

Sirius nodded. "Our tickets were bought in the same section as the Weasleys' since their sons are coming with us, so we were sent to Stoatshead Hill."

"George!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed suddenly.

George jumped and clutched his wand, staring at his mother.

"What?" he squawked.

"What is that in your pocket?"

"Nothing!"

"Don't you lie to me!"

Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at George's pocket and said, _"Accio!_ "

Several small, brightly colored sweets zoomed out of his pocket. He made a grab for them, but missed, and they sped into Mrs. Weasley's outstretched hand.

"We told you to destroy them!" she said furiously, holding up what were unmistakably Ton-Tongue Toffees. "We told you to get rid of the lot—forbid you from selling them at school! Empty your pockets, both of you!"

It was horrible to watch. Harish helped make them after all. The three of them had tried to smuggle as many as they could. The twins had even sent dozens of different joke products to Harish's house by night.

" _Accio! Accio! Accio!"_ Mrs. Weasley shouted.

The toffees zoomed from pots, the lining of George's pocket, the turn-ups of Fred's jeans, and even from under Harish's shirt, which had been tucked into his pants to keep the toffees from falling out.

"We spent six months developing those!" Fred shouted at his mother as she threw the toffees away.

"You can't do that!" Harish howled. "I'm not even your son!"

"Well it seems high time you were disciplined properly."

All in all, it was it was not a friendly atmosphere as they left. Mrs. Weasley was still glowering as she kissed Mr. Weasley goodbye, and all three boys were fuming. The twins had hoisted their rucksacks and walked out without a word to her.

"Well, have a lovely time," Mrs. Weasley said. "and _behave yourselves!_ " She called after the twins retreating backs. They still did not respond, but Fred slammed the door to the house behind him.

It was chilly and the moon was still out. Only a dull, greenish tinge along the horizon to their right showed that the sun was crawling its way to the sky. He walked in between the twins, All three of them were still silently seething; Harish especially, as he had not failed to notice Mrs. Weasley's jab at his father's parenting skills. For a Dark Lord, he was doing _very_ well raising him, in Harish's opinion.

They walked in silence for a few minutes.

"Where're we going?" Neville asked finally.

"There," Mr. Weasley responded, pointing to a large black mass that sat behind Ottery St. Catchpole. "Stoatshead Hill."

They trudged through the dark, dank lane toward the village, the silence was broken only by their footsteps. It was a good thing it was so early. If it was much later, Harish was afraid they might have run into the Muggles again—his aunt, uncle, and cousin apparently—and gotten the twins into more trouble. And who knew after what their mother had said? She might find some way to punish Harish as well…

The sky slowly lightened as they made it to the other side of the village, its inky blackness diluting to a deep, deep blue. Harish's hands and feet were freezing. If he wasn't near so many adults, he would have cast a spell to warm them…

They didn't have breath to spare as they began to climb Stoatshead Hill. Mr. Weasley kept checking his watch periodically. Occasionally, one of them would slip or trip over a rabbit hole. Each breath began to feel like needles in their chests and Harish's legs began to seize up as the hill levelled out.

"Whew," Mr. Weasley panted, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his sweater. "Well, we've made good time—we've got ten minutes…Now we just need to find the Portkey…"

Harish looked around the hill, but he didn't see anything that was Portkey material. They were normally formed out of some sort of trash—something Muggles weren't likely to pick up by mistake. Still, there had been some cases where a Muggle grabbed a Portkey and had to be Obliviated and sent back home.

"Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we've got it!"

Two tall figures were silhouetted against the starry sky on the other side of the hill top.

"Amos!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed, smiling as he strode over to the man who had shouted. The rest of them followed.

He was shaking hands with a ruddy-faced wizard with a scrubby brown bear, who was holding a mangy old boot in his other hand.

"This is Amos Diggory, everyone," Mr. Weasley said. "He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son, Cedric?"

Cedric was an extremely handsome Hufflepuff that was a sixth year as well as Harish and the twins. He was Captain and Seeker of the Hufflepuff House Quidditch team at Hogwarts. Also as they were both Seekers for their teams, that made him and Cedric proper rivals.

"Hi," Cedric said, looking around at them all.

Everyone said hi back except Harish, who merely nodded at the lad. It wouldn't do to appear too friendly with him—even if he did like him.

"Long walk, Arthur?" Amos asked.

"Not too bad," Mr. Weasley replied. "We live just on the other side of the village there. You?"

"Had to get up at two, didn't we, Ced? I tell you, I'll be glad when he's got his Apparition test. Still…not complaining…Quidditch World Cup, wouldn't miss it for a sackful of Galleons—and the tickets cost about that. Mind you, looks like I got off easy…" Cedric's father peered good-naturedly around at the three Weasley boys, Harish, Draco, and Neville. "All these yours, Arthur?"

"Oh no, only the redheads," Mr. Weasley said, pointing out his children. "Blake here," he clapped Sirius on the back, "is taking Harish, Draco, and the twins, so we took Ron's friend, Neville. They couldn't get a portkey arranged nearby, so they came with us."

"Merlin's beard," Amos muttered his eyes widening. "Neville? Neville _Longbottom_?"

Everyone turned to look at Neville.

"Uh—y-yeah," he stammered.

After two years, Neville had grown accustomed to people staring at him, but it still made him feel uncomfortable.

"Must be nearly time," Mr. Weasley said, breaking the silence. He checked his watch again. "Do you know whether we're waiting for any more, Amos?"

"No, the Lovegoods have been there for a week already and the Fawcetts couldn't get tickets. There aren't any more of us in this area, are there?"

"Not that I know of," Mr. Weasley said thoughtfully. "Yes, it's a minute off…We'd better get ready…"

With difficulty, owing to their bulky backpacks, the ten of them crowded around the old boot held out by Amos Diggory. They all stood there, in a tight circle, as a chill breeze swept over the hilltop. No one spoke. It suddenly occurred to Harish how odd they would look if a Muggle were to walk up there just then…ten people, three of them grown men, clutching a moldy old boot in the semidarkness, waiting…

"Three," Mr. Weasley muttered, looking at his watch. "Two…one…"

It happened immediately. Harish felt as if a hook just behind his navel had been suddenly jerked forward. His feet left the ground; he could feel Draco pressed on one side of him and Sirius on the other, their shoulders banging into his. They were all speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling color; his forefinger was stuck to the boot as though by a magnet.

Then his feet slammed into the ground. Draco staggered into him, knocked him into Sirius, and fell over. The portkey hit the ground near them with a heavy thud. Harish looked around. He, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Diggory, Cedric, and Sirius were all standing upright, though appearing slightly windswept. Everyone else were sprawled on the ground.

"Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill," said a voice.

* * *

 **TTFN**


	64. Part 6: Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Chapter Three: Going Incognito**

The twins disentangled themselves from Draco and got to their feet. Harish, who was swaying from Draco falling into him, was helped by Sirius to regain his balance. They had arrived on what appeared to be a deserted, misty moor. In front of them was a pair of tired-looking wizards. One of them was holding a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed as Muggles, though inexpertly: The man with the watch had a brown tweed suit and knee high galoshes; his colleague, a kilt and a poncho.

"Morning Basil," Mr. Weasley said, picking up the boot and handing it to the man in the kilt, who threw it in a large box that held used Portkeys. Inside it, there was already a newspaper, an empty drink can, and a punctured football.

"Hello there, Arthur," Basil replied wearily. "Not on duty, eh? It's all right for some…We've been here all night…You'd better get out of the way, we've got a big party coming in from the Black Forest at five fifteen. Hang on, I'll find your campsite…Weasley…Weasley…" He consulted his parchment list. "About a quarter's mile walk from here, first field you come to. Site manager's called Mr. Roberts. Diggory…second field…ask for Mr. Payne. And who are you?" he asked Sirius.

"Blake."

"Blake…Blake…you're field one as well."

They all nodded, said a quick thanks, and walked over across the deserted moor. After about twenty minutes, a small stone cottage next to a gate appeared out of the fog. Beyond it, Harish could just make out the ghostly shapes of hundreds and hundreds of tents, rising up the gentle slope of the hilly field toward a dark wood on the horizon. They said goodbye to the Diggorys and approached the cottage door.

A man was standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents. Harish knew at a glance that this was the only real Muggle for several miles; he was the only one that wasn't dressed in insane fashion. When he heard footsteps, he turned his head to look at them.

"Morning!" Mr. Weasley said brightly.

"Morning," the Muggle replied.

"Would you be Mr. Roberts?"

"Aye, I would," Mr. Roberts replied. "And who're you?"

"Weasley—and this is Blake—two tents booked a couple days ago?"

"Aye," Mr. Roberts replied, consulting a list tacked to the door. " _You've_ got a space up by the wood there. Just the one night?"

"That's it," Mr. Weasley said.

"And Blake is over to the right a bit. Staying three nights, correct?"

Sirius nodded.

"You'll be paying now, then?" Mr. Roberts asked.

"Ah—right—certainly—" Mr. Weasley fiddled with several Muggle bills in confusion, then Ron nudged him as Sirius walked up with his own stash of money.

"Here's a ten and a five…of and here's another fifteen…for my friend. He's foreign."

"He's not the first one who's had trouble with money," Mr. Roberts said as Mr. Weasley walked up to join them. "I had two try and pay me with great gold coins the size of hubcaps ten minutes ago."

"Did you really?" Mr. Weasley asked, concerned.

Mr. Roberts rummaged around in a tin for some change.

"Never been this crowded," he said, suddenly looking out over the misty field again. "Hundreds of pre-bookings. Most people just turn up…"

"Is that right?" Mr. Weasley asked, holding his hand out to take the change. Mr. Roberts didn't give it to him.

"Aye," he said thoughtfully. "People from all over. Loads of foreigners. And not just foreigners. Weirdos, you know? There's a bloke walking 'round in a kilt and poncho."

"Shouldn't he?" Mr. Weasley asked, sounding really worried now.

"It's like some sort of…like some sort of rally. They all seem to know each other. Like a big party."

At that moment, a wizard in plus-fours appeared out of thin air next to Mr. Roberts's front door.

" _Obliviate_!" he said sharply, pointing his wand at the Muggle.

Instantly his eyes slid out of focus, his eyebrows unknotted, and a look of dreamy unconcern fell over his face. Harish recognized the symptoms of a modified memory.

"Two maps of the campsite for you," Mr. Roberts said placidly. "And your change."

"Thanks very much," Mr. Weasley replied.

The wizard in plus-fours accompanied them to the gate of the campsite. He looked exhausted. There were deep purple shadows under his eyes and he kept running a hand over his face. Once out of earshot, he muttered to them, "Been having a lot of trouble with that one. Needs a Memory Charm ten times a day. And Ludo Bagman isn't helping. Parading around in his robes, talking about Quidditch and Bludgers at the top of his voice, not a worry about security. Blimey, I'll be glad when this is over. See you later, Arthur."

Sirius walked over.

"Here," he said, pulling Mr. Weasley's Muggle money over where he could see it. "These are ones…these are tens…" he grabbed a couple of ones. "That's what you owe me."

"Thank you," Mr. Weasley replied hurriedly. "What box will you be in?"

"Top box," the other man replied.

Mr. Weasley nodded. "I'll see you all later then. Boys—" he turned to the twins. " _Please_ behave. I don't know what your mother will do if you get into more trouble."

"Disown us, most likely," George muttered as they turned and headed down a row of tents to the right while Mr. Weasley, Ron, Ginny, and Neville went straight ahead.

Harish followed Sirius, glancing around. Finally, they came to a stop at a wooden post that read, "Blake".

"Well," Sirius said, clapping his hands together and pulling his backpack off. "This is us!"

He pulled a bundle of cloth, poles, and strings out and set it on the ground.

"Now, strictly speaking, I know you're not supposed to be doing magic, but everyone here will be doing some. We are completely out of sight of the Muggle, and it sounds as if he'll be Obliviated again soon, so if you could just help me with this tent—Draco you might want to step back—"

Harish, Fred, and George pulled out their wands as Draco moved out of their way. Then, the tent was soon hovering slightly. As it got higher into the air, it stretched out and the poles snapped into place. They lowered it, and little mallets appeared, pushing stakes into the ground and holding the tent down. While Sirius checked and made sure the tent was secured properly, the boys went inside. Honestly, Harish had expected it to be a lot smaller, as he had thought they had a Muggle tent. It appeared Muggle on the outside, but it was rather large inside.

There was a small kitchen area with an old fashioned stove in the back of the tent. On the other side were six bunks. Three were stacked against the wall and the other three were about two feet away. On the wall of the tent in between them were three bedside tables, floating in between two bunks each. Straight back, in between the kitchen and the beds, was a bathroom. Then, at the front of the tent were a couple chairs and couches. In the very center was a coffee table with a chessboard on it and a pack of Exploding Snap.

Everything was new and shiny. Harish had a sneaking suspicion that Sirius had bought it solely for that occasion. The boys went inside the tent and sat on the couches around the coffee table. Once there, they began rummaging through their rucksacks. Harish and the twins pulled out their merchandise lists. At the top, Harish wrote "Weasley and Co." the twins did the same on the other forms. Sirius walked in while they were doing this.

"So you invented all of this yourselves?" Sirius asked, picking up one of the forms.

They nodded.

"We started about four years ago," Harish replied.

Sirius nodded.

"What's this?" he asked, pointing to one of the sheets.

"' _Enfolding String'_ ," Harish read aloud.

He reached into his bag and pulled out a pair. He tapped each of the orbs and waved his wand around, causing the string to zoom around the tent. Sirius looked impressed.

"Too bad Mum took all of our Ton Tongue Toffees," George said moodily.

Sirius grinned at them.

"Do you want me to show you something I learned a little while back?" he asked.

"What?" Harish asked, slightly concerned.

Sirius lazily flicked his wand. With a little pop, dozens of orange sweets appeared one by one.

"How did you do that?" the twins asked, gaping.

"All I had to do was summon them. You'd best put these somewhere safe."

Harish nodded and put them in his own backpack.

Sirius clapped him on the back as he stood up and looked around the kitchen.

"We'll need water," he muttered, looking at the empty kettle.

"There is a tap marked on this map the Muggle gave us," Harish said, looking at their map. "It is on the other side of the field."

"Well why don't you boys go get some water while I grab some wood for a fire."

"But we have a stove," Harish said, pointing to the object in the kitchen.

"It's more fun cooking on a campfire," Sirius replied with a grin.

Harish shook his head and led the others out of the tent.

The sun had finally peaked over the horizon. It was large and orange, tinting the sky with reds, pinks, and purples. Directly overhead was still a blue color, but as the sun rose, it got lighter and lighter. The fog had cleared away, and the boys could properly see the city of tents that stretched in every direction. They slowly made their way through the rows, staring around.

Their fellow campers were starting to wake up. Families with small children were the first to rise. Harish had never seen that many young children before in one place. A few little boys were brandishing twigs at each other, or riding toy brooms, their toes skimming the grass. One Ministry worker spotted them, hurrying past the Slytherins muttering distractedly, "In broad daylight! Parents having a lie-in, I suppose—"

Older witches and wizards were appearing as well. A few were casting furtive glances about, starting their fires magically. Others were striking matches, looking doubtful that anything would happen. It was a fairly amusing sight.

Harish noticed that several students that he knew were there as well. He saw Daphne and her parents. They also ran into Marcus Flint, who had graduated Hogwarts the year before. On the next row over, they found where the rest of the Weasleys were staying the night. In a shabby old tent with a post out front that read "Weezly".

There were people from other countries as well.

Some of them were sporting their colors. A national flag here, some sort of banner there…

"Is it just me, or has everything gone green?" Draco asked, rubbing them vigorously.

It wasn't just his eyes. They had walked into a patch of tents that seemed like they were part of the landscape. They were covered in a thick growth of shamrocks. Grinning, painted faces could be seen poking out of the flaps of the tents.

Then, as soon as they passed through, they found the site where all of the Bulgarians were staying. A large flag was fluttering in the breeze—white, red, and green. Instead of smothered in plant life, each tent had a large poster attached to it. It seemed that a surly face with thick eyebrows and a heavy scowl blinked at them from every direction.

"That's their Seeker, Victor Krum?" Harish asked. "Isn't he only eighteen?"

The twins nodded.

Finally they reached the tap. There was already a group of people, milling about as they waited for water. Farther up in the line, Harish could make out a shock of red hair—most likely Ron and Ginny. Right behind them was a pair of men who were having a heated argument. One of them was wearing a flowery nightgown and the other was dressed more fashionably. He was also holding a pair of pin-striped trousers and practically crying with exasperation.

"Just put them on, Archie, there's a good chap. You can't walk around like that—the Muggle at the gate's already suspicious—"

"I bought this at a Muggle store," Archie replied stubbornly. "It's for Muggles."

"It's for Muggle _women_ …"

Just behind them and right in front of the group of Slytherins, were a pair of African wizards. They were each wearing long white robes and jabbing quickly in some foreign language. Harish sighed as the line crept slowly forward.

Once they finally got their water, they had to move more slowly as each of them were carrying buckets that were nearly filled to the brim. On their way back they ran into more friendly faces. There was Luna Lovegood, looking as dotty as ever. Next they were hailed by Ernie MacMillan, a Hufflepuff fourth year.

When they finally reached their tent again, Sirius was stoking a roaring fire. Above the fire sat a tray that held a metal pan. Sizzling inside it were sausages and bacon. The boys dropped their water off on the tables inside before returning outside and sitting around the fire.

After a few minutes, the food was done and they sat there, eating and listening while Sirius pointed a few people out to them. Most of them he knew because he used to be on the Auror force with them, or because they had helped capture him on the night Voldemort had gone into hiding. Some of them he knew from school.

Once they finally finished, and were lounging around lazily, a man walked up. He had a happy, boyish face and was wearing a pair of Quidditch robes that were black and yellow striped. On the front of them was a picture of a wasp.

"Ahoy there!" he called.

He was walking as though he had springs attached to his feet.

"M'name's Ludo Bagman! And who might you be?"

"My name is Arata Blake," Sirius replied. "And this is my nephew Harish, and his friends, Draco Malfoy, Fred, and George Weasley."

"Weasleys, eh?" Bagman asked. "I thought I recognized your hair. Anyway, fancy a flutter on the match?"

He jingled a pouch of what seemed to be a large amount of gold. Sirius stood up and began digging money out of his pockets.

"How about two Galleons on Ireland to win?" he asked.

"Two Galleons?" Bagman asked, taking the money. "Any other takers?"

"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts," Fred said as he and George pooled all of their money, "that Ireland wins—but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh, and we'll throw in a fake wand."

Bagman took the fake wand and his boyish face lit up with delight as it squeaked and changed smoothly to a rubber chicken. Then, he roared with laughter.

"Excellent! I haven't seen one that convincing in years! I'd pay five Galleons for that!"

The twins and Harish beamed from the praise.

"You reckon Ireland will win but Krum'll get the Snitch? Not a chance, boys, not a chance…I'll give you excellent odds on that one….We'll add five Galleons for the funny wand, then, shall we…"

He whipped out a notebook and jotted down their names.

"Cheers," George said, taking the slip of paper Bagman handed him and tucked it away carefully.

Just then, a man wearing a suit and tie Apparated to their campfire. Sirius's face suddenly scrunched up and Harish shot him a glance. The man had never looked that unhappy to see someone before.

"I've been looking all over for you, Ludo," the man said. "The Bulgarians are insisting we add another twelve seats to the Top Box."

"Oh, is _that_ what they're after?" he asked as he followed the man away. "I thought they were asking for a pair of tweezers…"

"Who was that?" Harish asked once they were out of earshot.

"Barty Crouch Sr." Sirius replied with distaste.

"Sr.?" Harish asked.

"Yes, his son was named after him. Sent him to Azkaban—at least _he_ got a trial."

"What do you mean?"

"Didn't you know? I was sentenced to life in Azkaban without trial. They had passed a law that any Death Eater wouldn't get a trial if they didn't think they deserved it. It was old Barty that set it."

"But wasn't Barty Crouch Jr. a Death Eater?" the twins asked.

Sirius nodded. "Accused of torturing the Longbottoms. He was in a cell near me…For a while he used to cry out in his sleep that he didn't do it…before he went quiet anyway."

"Went quiet?"

"Most of them do, in Azkaban. They lose the will to live."

Sirius stared into the fire before shaking his head. Draco then said, "Oh I forgot to tell you!"

"Tell us what?" Harish asked, confused.

"About what the other event is that's happening this year! Here—let's go inside."

So they went inside and sat on the couches around the table again, where the order forms were still laying out.

"So what is this top secret—"

"Event no one's supposed to know about?"

"This year Hogwarts is hosting another Triwizard tournament."

"You're _joking_!" both twins said.

Draco shook his head, grinning.

"How do _you_ know?" Harish asked.

"My father works at the Ministry, remember? He told me ages ago!"

Harish laughed, and soon the others joined in. Triwizard tournaments had been abandoned years ago when too many people were injured. It was a huge surprise that they were attempting to have another one.

They all sat around and chatted about joke products and previous tournaments as they waited for the match to begin, then they finally headed out toward the woods as the sun began to set.

* * *

 **TTFN**


	65. Part 6: Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Four: The Quidditch World Cup**

As everyone was getting ready for the match that evening, they gave up all hope of hiding magic. Ministry workers apparently gave up as everyone was blatantly showing magic everywhere: Salesmen were Apparating every few feet, carrying trays and pushing carts full of merchandise.

There were luminous rosettes—green for Ireland and red for Bulgaria—which were squealing the names of players. There were pointed green hats bedecked with dancing shamrocks, Bulgarian scarves adorned with lions that really roared, flags from both countries that played their national anthems when waved, and much, much more.

Harish couldn't help the grin that spread across his face at the infectious atmosphere. He and Draco rushed forward, eager to spend their money. The twins, who had gamboled all of their allowances, only followed to have a look.

Draco bought an Irish rosette and hat, model Firebolt, along with a model of Viktor Krum; the player strolled across the palm of Draco's hand and scowled at the green rosette above him.

"Look at these," Harish said, walking over to a cart piled high with what looked like brass binoculars, only they were covered with all sorts of weird knobs and dials.

"Omnioculars," the saleswizard informed them eagerly. "You can replay action…slow everything down…and they flash up a play-by-play breakdown if you need it. Bargain—ten Galleons each."

"Wish I hadn't bought all this now," Draco said, gesturing to his own belongings.

"Four pairs," Harish told the wizard firmly.

"What?" all of the other boys asked at once.

"Don't bother—"

"We don't need—"

"I could just get more money from father!"

"Take it as a Christmas gift," Harish said, shoving a pair of Omnioculars into each of his friends' hands. "Though, it will have to last you about ten years."

"Fair enough," the twins replied, grinning.

Then they heard a deep, booming gong and green and red lanterns blazed into life among the trees, lighting a path to the field.

"Come on, boys," Sirius said. "It's about to start!"

They all hurried into the wood after Harish's godfather, clutching their purchases. They could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around, shouts and laughter, snatches of singing. They walked through the wood for half an hour, talking and joking loudly, until at last they emerged on the other side and found themselves standing in the shadow of an immense stadium. Though Harish could only see a fraction of the ginormous gold walls surrounding the field, he could tell that ten manors would fit comfortably inside it.

"Seats a hundred thousand," Harish heard someone nearby say.

Draco gaped.

"Prime seats!" the Ministry witch informed them at the entrance when she checked their tickets. "Top Box! Straight upstairs, and as high as you can go."

The stairs into the stadium were carpeted in rich purple. The group of five climbed upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away through doors into the stands to their left and right. The party of Slytherins (and Sirius) kept climbing, and at last they reached the top of the staircase and found themselves in a small box, set at the highest point in the stadium and situated exactly halfway in between the golden goalposts. About twenty purple chairs stood in three rows, clad in purple cloth, and Harish led them into the front seats.

Below them were thousands and thousands of witches and wizards. Some of them wore flashing green rosettes and the roar of voices drifted up to the sky. A billboard, which was hovering opposite them, had golden writing dashing across it as though a giant's invisible hand was scrawling across it.

Harish watched it a moment, before turning to see who was sharing the box with them. So far it was empty, except for a tiny creature sitting in the second from last seat at the end of the row behind them. The creature, which Harish immediately could tell was a house elf, had legs that were so short that they stuck out in front of it on the chair. It had long, batlike ears and its nose was large and round. As soon as it noticed Harish watching, it hid its face in its long fingers.

"Whose elf are you?" Harish asked.

"My name is Winky, sir!" the elf squeaked, looking up and quivering slightly. "Winky does not like heights but…Winky's master told her to save him a seat, so Winky did!"

Harish was about to retort that the elf, didn't answer properly, but it glanced at the edge of the box and hid its face again.

"So that's a house-elf?" Fred asked as they turned back around.

"They're weird things, aren't they," George commented.

"Dobby, our house elf, is weirder," Harish replied.

Harish was suddenly jerked forward as someone slid down the row behind them.

"I see you are still bragging about your money, Blake," someone said from behind them.

Harish turned to see Ron sitting down behind them.

"I see your manners are as non-existent as ever, Weasley," Harish said coolly as Neville sat down beside his friend.

Ron opened his mouth angrily, but Mr. Weasley slid into the row next.

"Not arguing, are we, boys?" he asked.

"No," Harish replied smoothly.

If glares could burn holes, Harish would have been a pile of ashes. Neville looked nervously between the two of them. A moment later, Bill slid into the row, followed by Percy and Charlie. Harish nodded his greeting and turned back around. A few minutes later, Draco's parents arrived and sat on the last two seats of the front row. They were followed by the Minister of Magic and a group of Bulgarian politicians.

"Ah, Fudge," Lucius said as he turned around and shook the Minister's hand. "How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?"

"How do you do, how do you do?" Fudge said, smiling and bowing to Lucius. "And allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk—Oblonsk—Mr.—well, he's the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he can't understand a word I'm saying either, so never mind. And let's see who else—you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?"

It was a tense moment. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy looked at each other. Even though their children were friends, they weren't exactly on the best of terms, themselves. Lucius's cold gray eyes swept over Mr. Weasley, and then up and down the row.

"Good Lord, Arthur," he said softly. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"

It was much like one of those moments when one of your parents say something annoying or blunt to one of your friends. Fred and George began looking angry while Draco looked slightly embarrassed. He tried to get his father to sit down, but he was ignored. Harish patted his friend's shoulder for his valiant effort.

Fudge, who wasn't listening and hadn't noticed this interaction, was saying, "Lucius has just given a _very_ generous contribution to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He's here as my guest."

"How—how nice," Mr. Weasley said with a strained smile.

Draco tugged on his father one last time. Swatting Draco's hand in annoyance, Lucius sat down, clutching his cane tightly.

"Sorry about that," Draco whispered to the twins.

They nodded at him and sent him a look that told the boy that it wasn't his fault. Next moment. Ludo Bagman charged into the box.

"Everyone ready?" he asked, his round face gleaming with excitement. "Minister—ready to go?"

"Ready when you are, Ludo," Fudge replied comfortably.

Ludo whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, and said, "Sonorous!" and then spoke over the roar of the crowd. His voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands.

"Ladies and gentlemen…welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket. The huge blackboard opposite them was wiped clear of its advertisement for Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and now showed BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.

"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce…the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"

"What have they brought?" Sirius asked, leaning forward in his seat. "Veela!" he said, before hurriedly plugging his ears.

"What—"

But before Harish could ask about his godfather's strange antics, a hundred veela were gliding onto the field. Harish's jaw dropped open as he stared at the Veela…the most beautiful women Harish had ever seen. Sirius handed Harish's a pair of earplugs and he distractedly put them in. As the veelas' song was cut off completely, all daring thoughts that had been crossing his mind disappeared. Sirius raised an eyebrow at him before turning to look out at the stadium. Harish turned to see the twins. One had a foot propped up on the wall of the box, and the other was gazing dumbly at the veela. Draco, however, did not seem affected by them. He merely kept George from standing up while Harish pulled Fred back into his seat.

Sirius motion that it was safe and Harish pulled his earplugs out. The music had stopped and angry yells were filling the stadium. The crowd didn't want the veela to go. But they were lining up on the side of the field.

"And now," Ludo Bagman roared. "kindly put your wands in the air…for the Irish National Team Mascots!"

Next moment, what seemed to be a great green-and-gold comet came zooming into the stadium. It did one circuit of the stands, then split in two smaller comets, each hurtling toward the goalposts. A rainbow arched suddenly across the field, connecting the two balls of light. The crowd oohed and aahed appropriately. Now the rainbow had faded and the balls of light reunited and merged; they formed a great shimmering shamrock in the sky. Something like gold rained down on the stands as the shamrock zoomed around them.

"Excellent!" Ron yelled behind them as it soared over them and heavy gold coins rained from it, bouncing off their heads and seats. Squinting up at the shamrock, Harish saw that it was actually made of hundreds of tiny bearded men with red vests, each carrying a green or gold lamp.

"Leprechauns!" Mr. Weasley said over the tumultuous applause of the crowd, many of whom were fighting to get to gold coins that were under their chairs or in their neighbor's hats.

"There you go," Draco said, stuffing fistfuls of coins into Harish's hand. "Now you've _got_ to buy me a Christmas present!"

The great shamrock dissolved as the leprechauns soared down and settled themselves cross legged on the field, opposite the veela.

"And now, ladies and gentleman kindly welcome—the Bulgarian National Team!"

And Bagman announced each of the players' names as scarlet figures shot onto the field, to wild applause of Bulgarian supporters. Then, he did the same for the Irish. Harish watched, his Omnioculars pressed to his face. He zoomed in and out, fiddling dials, and causing the announcement to replay. Before he sped it back to regular time, he caught a glimpse of the word "Firebolt" engraved in silver on each of the players' brooms.

The referee stepped onto the field wearing robes of gold that matched the stadium. He carried a box underneath his arm. Harish watched as the man released the balls and blew his whistle, signifying that the game had begun.

* * *

 **I'm afraid I won't be going into detail over the match. If you want details, go read the fourth Harry Potter book. Anyway, R &R!**

 **~TTFN**


	66. Part 6: Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Five: Furious Fathers**

It was Quidditch as Harish had never seen. The players flew at lightning speed, tossing the Quaffle back and forth so fast that Bagman only had time enough to call out their names. Irish flew so well, it was as if they were reading each other's minds.

Ireland scored three times within ten minutes, causing the game to go even faster and much more brutal; the Irish formation was forced to scatter as the Bulgarian beaters began smacking people with their clubs, Lynch was the victim of a Wronski Feint, and Krum was hit in the face by a bludger resulting in a horribly bloody nose. Then, of course the veela and leprechauns got into a fight and the veela sprouted fangs.

But still the game continued at a very fast pace and Harish sat at the edge of his seat, Omnioculars pressed so hard to his face they were cutting into his nose. He shouted whenever there was a foul and screamed every time there was a goal. It was incredibly exciting.

Finally the match ended when Krum, specks of blood trailing behind him, streaked into a dive and caught the Snitch. The scoreboard was flashing BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170.

The twins jumped up and screamed, George clutching their betting slip.

"I knew it!" Fred shouted.

"What did I tell you!" George bellowed.

"What do you know!" Harish exclaimed gleefully, happy for his friends.

"IRELAND WINS!" Bagman roared, who like the Irish seemed to be taken aback by the sudden end of the match. "KRUM GETS THE SNITCH—BUT IRELAND WINS—good lord I don't think any of us were expecting that!"

"What did he catch the Snitch for?" Draco demanded. "He ended it while the Irish were still a hundred and sixty points ahead!"

"He knew they would never catch up!" Harish shouted over the noise of the crowd. "The Irish Chasers were too good…He wanted to end it on his terms, that's all…"

Flags were waving all over the stadium once again, the Irish nation anthem blared on all sides. The veela were shrinking back into their usual, beautiful selves, looking dispirited and forlorn.

"Vell, ve fought bravely," a gloomy voice said behind them. Harish looked around; it was the Bulgarian Minister of Magic.

"You can speak English!" Fudge said, sounding outraged. "And you've been letting me mime everything all day!"

"Vell, it vos very funny," the Bulgarian minister replied with a shrug.

Harish and the twins let out shouts of laughter.

"And the Irish team performs a lap of honor as the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!" Bagman roared.

They were all suddenly blinded by a dazzling white light, as the Top Box was illuminated so that everyone in the stands could see inside. Squinting toward the entrance, Harish saw two panting wizards carrying a vast golden cup into the box, which they handed to Fudge, who was still looking disgruntled that he'd been miming all day for nothing.

"Let's have a hand for our gallant losers—Bulgaria!"

And up the stairs came the seven defeated Bulgarian players. The crowd below was applauding appreciatively. Harish could see thousands of Omniocular lenses flashing in their direction. One by one the players filed between the seats and shook hands with their own Minister and then Fudge. Krum, who was last in line, looked a real mess. His front was all bloody and two black eyes were swelling on his face. He still clutched the Snitch tightly.

And then came the Irish team. Lynch was being supported by Moran and Connolly; the second crash seemed to have dazed his and his eyes looked strangely unfocused. But he grinned happily as Tory and Quigley lifted the Cup into the air and the crowd below cheered. Harish's hands were numb from clapping; he had been applauding since the game had ended.

Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and muttered, "Quietus."

"They'll be talking about that one for years," he said hoarsely. "a really unexpected twist, that…shame it couldn't have lasted longer…Ah, yes…yes, I owe you…how much?"

The twins had just scrambled over the backs of their seats and were standing in front of Bagman with broad grins on their faces, their hands outstretched. Bagman dug around in his money pouch and poured gold into their hands.

"Don't tell your mother you've been gambling," Mr. Weasley muttered as the two parties left together.

"Don't worry, Dad," Fred said gleefully. "We've got big plans for this money."

"We don't want it confiscated."

Mr. Weasley looked concerned for a moment, before he pressed forward to herd Ron, Ginny and Neville toward Bill, Charlie, and Percy. Harish grinned at the twins and congratulated them. That was more money to go into their joke shop funds.

They were soon caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadium and back to their campsites. Raucous singing flew through the night air as they retraced their steps along the lantern-lit path, and leprechauns kept shooting over their heads, cackling and waving their lanterns. When they finally reached the tents, no one felt like sleeping at all.

Since it was the four boys chaperoned by a marauder they stayed up late, sipping hot cocoa and reliving the match over and over again. Finally, as everyone started to quiet down, Sirius insisted that they go to bed. Harish claimed the top buck on the left and Draco claimed the other one. The twins slept below them and Sirius slept on the bottom.

From the other side of the campsite they could still hear much singing and the odd echoing bang. Harish stared at the canvas above him, watching the glow of an occasional leprechaun flying overhead. Harish thought of all of the moves he had seen that day, envisioning himself performing some of them.

He had no idea when he had dropped off to sleep, his fantasies switching to dreams—all he knew was that he was suddenly being shaken awake again. Sirius was shouting.

"Get up! Harish—Draco—come on now, get up, this is urgent!"

Harish sat up quickly, his now messy hair brushing the canvas above him.

"S'matter?" he asked groggily.

Dimly, he could tell something was off. The noises in the campsite had changed. The singing had stopped. He could hear screams, and the sound of people running. He slipped down from the bunk and reached for his clothes, but Sirius said, "No time! Just grab a jacket and get outside—quickly!"

Harish did as he was told and ran out, followed closely by Draco. They found Sirius as the mouth of the tent with the twins already outside, gaping around. By the light of the few fires that were still burning, he could see people running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field towards them. Something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire. Tents were being trampled and set of fire as it came closer. Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward them; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene.

A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward was marching across the field. They were wearing masks and dark robes. The twins watched in horror and Harish turned to look at Draco; there was no doubt his father was among that crowd.

"Father's going to be furious," was all Harish could manage to say.

High above them, floating in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. Harish could tell they were under the Imperious Curse. Two of the figures were very small.

"Your father's going to be furious?" the twins asked. "Our father's probably rushing over there to kill Draco's father!"

More tents were trampled and burned. The screaming grew louder.

"I need you lot to go into the woods! Stick together…" Sirius shouted. "I'm going to find Mr. Weasley and make sure he gets everyone out all right!"

"But what about Ginny—?"

"GO!"

The twins dashed off, dragging Harish, Draco was straggling behind them. The colored lamps had been extinguished. Dark figures were blundering up the path to the stadium, through the trees. Children were crying, anxious shouts and panicked voices were coming from all around them in the cold night air. Harish was being pushed back and forth and he struggled to stay with the others. Finally he got fed up and lit his wand. The others lit their wands as well, and he dragged them into a cluster of trees.

From there, they were far enough that they shouldn't be caught in the action, but close enough where they could look out for Sirius. Draco turned and watched the scene with revulsion.

"I can't believe this," he muttered. "I knew there was a war before but…I never knew they did this to innocent people."

"Neither did I," Harish said quietly.

His back was turned from the scene. His only reassurance was that he knew this hadn't been ordered by his father. The twins simply shook their heads. The four of them stood in silence for a moment before—

"I've lost my wand!"

Harish was searching his pockets frantically.

"Maybe you left it at the tent?" Draco suggested.

"No…I had it just now…"

Harish felt extremely vulnerable without his wand. Even when he knew he would be in no danger, being the son of Voldemort. A rustling sound nearby made them all jump. Winky the house-elf was fighting her way out of a clump of bushed. She was moving in a peculiar fashion, as though someone was holding her back.

"There is bad wizards about!" she squeaked. "People high—high in the air! Winky is getting out of the way!"

And she disappeared into the trees on the other side of the path, panting and squeaking as she fought the force that was restraining her.

"What's wrong—"

"With her?"

"She was disobeying orders," Draco said, finally turning from the scene beyond the trees.

They waited uncomfortably in silence for a moment. Then, Bagman appeared with a pop. He was white in the face and beads of sweat were on his forehead.

"What's going on? Why are you all here, alone?"

They all looked at each other in concern.

"There's sort of a riot going on in the camp," George replied, confused.

Bagman stared at him.

" _What?"_

Draco turned and pointed to a gap in the trees where they could still see burning tents and four floating figures. Another bang issued from the Death Eaters. Screaming could be heard now that they were silent.

Bagman cursed under his breath before Apparating away again.

They began to watch, wait, and listen again. The screams and noises seemed quieter; perhaps the riot was over.

"I wonder where the others are," Fred whispered as they sat down to wait.

Knowing that he was referring to his family, everyone remained silent.

"I'm sure they're fine," George finally said.

"Mad, though, to do something like this when the whole Ministry of Magic is out here!" Harish exclaimed quietly. He knew Draco was thinking the same thing. He was looking very pale. "I mean, how do they expect to get away with it? Have they been drinking, or are they just—"

He cut off and looked over his shoulder. He had heard someone staggering toward them. They waited, listening to the sounds of the uneven steps behind the dark trees. The footsteps then suddenly came to a halt.

Harish got to his feet and looked around. Was it Sirius? If it was him, why wasn't he greeting them? He could just sense someone standing there, but it was too dark to see.

"Hello?" Fred asked.

Harish shot him a look. There was silence. The others got to their feet as well and everyone except Harish drew their wands.

"Who—?" George queried.

Harish punched him in the side to get him to shut up.

And then, without warning, the silence was broken by a harsh voice.

" _MOSMORDRE!_ "

Something vast, green, and glittering erupted from the patch of darkness Harish's eyes had been trying to penetrate; it flew up over the tree tops into the sky.

"What the—?" the twins asked.

Harish felt something hit his back. He quickly realized the green apparition was the Dark Mark, his father's mark, before he passed out.

* * *

 **TTFN**


	67. Part 6: Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Six: Draco's Tale**

Harish sat up with a groan. His back ached. His eyes fluttered open to see that he was lying in the tent on the couch with a pair of worried gray eyes above him. It was Sirius, watching him. Just beyond Harish's godfather were the twins and Draco, each holding a mug of hot chocolate.

"Harry!" Sirius exclaimed. "You're awake!"

"What happened?" Harish asked, sitting up. "Why was I knocked out?"

Everyone turned to Draco.

"I'm not sure why you were knocked out," he said slowly.

"Tell me everything that happened," Harish said.

 _Draco jumped as Harish dropped to the ground beside him._

" _What happened to him?" the twins asked, turning around._

" _I don't know, he just—"_

 _There were a collection of popping sounds, and pounding of footsteps as twenty wizards appeared all around them. Draco stared at them in confusion before registering in his mind that they were all pointing their wands straight at Draco and the twins._

" _DUCK!" one of the twins shouted as they both grabbed Draco, and pulled him to the ground beside Harish._

" _STUPEFY!" roared twenty voices._

 _There was a blinding series of red flashes and Draco felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as the spells passed above his head._

" _Stop!" yelled a voice he recognized. "STOP! Those're my sons!"_

 _The spells stopped and Draco raised his head slightly to see that the clearing had gone dark, lit only by the eerie green glow of the Dark Mark. A dark figure in front of them had lowered his wand. Another figure walked up beside him._

 _Draco sat up and saw that it was Mr. Weasley and Sirius Black._

" _Fred—George—" Mr. Weasley said, his voice sounding shaky. "Are you all right?"_

 _Draco and the twins got to their feet. Harish was still lying unconscious._

" _Harry!" Sirius exclaimed, leaping forward and grabbing his godson. "What happened to him?"_

" _I don't know—" Draco started again._

" _Out of the way Arthur," came a curt voice._

 _It was Mr. Crouch. He and the other Ministry workers were closing in on them. Mr. Crouch's face was taut with rage._

" _Which of you did it?" he snapped. His eyes darted between them. "Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?—"_

"Wait," Harish said, interrupting the boy. "He thought _you_ guys did it?"

"Yes," Draco replied. "It was a bit annoying really…"

"… _We didn't do that!" Draco said, gesturing to the sky._

" _Neither of us did," the twins said. "And Harish didn't have his wand."_

" _He was conscious then?" Sirius asked, looking up. His hand was still on Harish's wrist, checking his pulse._

 _Draco nodded._

" _Do not lie sir!" Mr. Crouch shouted, looking slightly mad. His eyes were popping and his wand was pointed at Draco's heart. "You have been found at the scene of the crime!"_

" _Barty, they're just kids," a woman nearby muttered. "How could they have—"_

" _What exactly happened?" Mr. Weasley asked._

" _We were sitting here, waiting on Mr. Blake when someone walked up over there," Draco pointed to the patch of darkness, which was now silent and still once again. "The twins asked who it was, and they didn't respond: they cast some spell that conjured it. Then, Harish fell on my foot."_

 _Mr. Crouch still looked skeptical, but the others began to walk toward the dark patch, their wands out. None of them seemed to believe it was remotely likely either of them had conjured the skull._

" _We're too late," the woman from before said, shaking her head. "They'll have Disapparated."_

" _I don't think so," said Amos Diggory. "Our Stunners went right through that clearing…There's a good chance we got them…"_

" _Amos be careful!" a few of the wizards warned as Cedric's father squared his shoulders, raised his wand, marched across the clearing, and disappeared into the darkness._

 _A few seconds later, they heard Mr. Diggory shout._

" _Yes! We got them! There's someone here! Unconscious! It's—but—blimey…"_

" _You've got someone?" Mr. Crouch shouted, sounding highly disbelieving. "Who? Who is it?"_

 _They heard snapping twigs, the rustling of leaves, and then crunching footsteps as Amos Diggory returned, a tiny limp figure held in his arms. It was the odd elf from before: Winky._

 _Mr. Crouch did not move or speak as Diggory deposited his elf on the ground at his feet. The other Ministry wizards were all staring at Mr. Crouch. For a few seconds, he remained transfixed, his eyes blazing in his white face as he stared down at Winky. Then, he seemed come back to life again._

" _This—cannot—be," he said jerkily. "No—"_

 _He moved quickly around Mr. Diggory and strode of into the place where Winky had been found._

" _No point, Mr. Crouch," Cedric's father called after him. "There's no one else there."_

 _But Mr. Crouch still rustled through the branches._

" _Bit embarrassing," Diggory said grimly. "Barty Crouch's house elf…I mean to say…"_

" _Come off it, Amos," Mr. Weasley said quietly. "You don't really think the elf could have conjured the Dark Mark—You-Know-Who's sign? That requires a wand."_

" _Yeah," Diggory replied. "She had a wand."_

 _And he held up—_

" _My_ wand?" Harish squawked. "Where is it now?"

Sirius, who was sitting on the coffee table, picked it up from beside him and handed it to his godson.

"How'd she get my wand?"

"We think someone might've taken it—"

"Used it. And framed—"

"Winky," the twins said.

Harish nodded.

"So what happened next?"

 _There was another pop and Ludo Bagman Apparated right next to Mr. Weasley. He was breathless and disoriented. He spun on the spot, goggling upward at the emerald green skull._

" _The Dark Mark!" he panted, almost trampling Winky as he turned to his colleagues. "Who did it? Did you get them? Barty! What's going on?"_

 _Mr. Crouch had returned empty handed. His face was still ghostly white, and his hands and his toothbrush mustache were both twitching._

" _Where have you been, Barty?" Bagman asked. "Why weren't you at the match? Your elf saved you a seat too—gulping gargoyles!" Bagman had just noticed Winky lying at his feet. "What happened to_ _ **her**_ _?"_

" _I have been busy, Ludo," Mr. Crouch replied, still talking in that same, jerky fashion. "And my elf has been stunned."_

" _Stunned? By you lot, you mean? But why—"_

 _Comprehension suddenly dawned on his round face. He looked at the skull, down at Winky, and then at Mr. Crouch._

" _No!" he said. "Winky? Conjure the Dark Mark? She wouldn't know how! She'd need a wand for a start!"_

" _And she had one," Mr. Diggory replied. "I found her holding one. If it's all right, Mr. Crouch, I think we should hear what she's got to say for herself."_

 _Crouch gave no sign that he had heard the man, but Diggory took his silent for assent. He raised his own wand, pointed it at Winky, and said, "Rennervate!"_

 _Winky stirred feebly. Her great brown eyes opened and she blinked several times in a confused sort of way. She shakily sat up, the wizards watching her every move. She caught sight of Mr. Diggory's feet, and slowly raised her eyes to stare up into his face. Then, even more slowly, she raised her tiny, pale face to the sky. She gasped, glanced all around the clearing, and then burst into terrified sobs._

" _Elf!" Diggory said sternly. "Do you know who I am? I'm a member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures!"_

 _Winky began to rock backward and forward on the ground, her breaths coming in sharp gasps._

" _As you see, elf, the Dark Mark was conjured here a short while ago," Diggory continued. "And you were discovered moments later, right beneath it! An explanation, if you please!"_

" _I—I—I is not doing it, sir!" Winky squeaked, fat tears rolling down her face. The Dark Mark was reflected in her large, shining eyes. "I is not knowing how, sir!"_

" _You were found with a wand in your hand!" Cedric's father barked, brandishing it in front of her. "You found this wand eh, elf? And you picked it up and thought you'd have some fun with it, did you?"_

" _I is not doing magic with it, sir!" Winky squealed. Her tears were now glistening as they fell onto her chest. "I is…I is…I is just picking it up, sir! I is not making the Dark Mark, sir, I is not knowing how!"_

" _I don't think it was her," Fred slowly._

" _What?" the adults all asked, turning to the boy._

" _Well," George said. "Her voice is too high."_

" _The voice we heard was low. Definitely human," Draco added._

" _Well, we'll soon see," Mr. Diggory said, looking unimpressed._

 _Draco was angry. Why wouldn't they listen to the people that were actually there when the spell had been cast?_

" _There's a simple was of discovering the last spell a wand performed. Did you know that, elf? Anyhow…Prior Incantato!"_

 _A small serpent-tongued skull flew out of the wand where the two met. It was the ghost of the previous spell._

" _Deletrius!" Diggory shouted, and the smoky skull vanished in a wisp of smoke._

" _So," Mr. Diggory said, triumph gleaming in his eyes. Winky immediately began squeaking her innocence, but he roared, "YOU HAVE BEEN CAUGHT RED HANDED, ELF! CAUGHT WITH THE GUILTY WAND IN YOUR HAND!"_

" _Amos," Mr. Weasley said loudly. "Think about it…she could've picked that wand up anywhere. Winky?" he asked kindly. Winky flinched as though he too had yelled at her. "Where did you find Harish's wand?"_

" _I—I is finding there sir," Winky said, raising a shaking hand to point to where she had been found. "In the trees. But I is only picking it up! I is a good elf!"_

" _You see, Amos?" Mr. Weasley said. "Whoever conjured the Mark must have Disapparated right after they'd done it, leaving Harish's wand behind. A clever thing to do, not using their own wand, which could have betrayed them. And Winky, here, had the misfortune to come across it moments later and pick it up."_

" _But then, she'd have been only a few feet away from the culprit! Elf? Did you see anyone?"_

 _Winky began to tremble worse than ever. Her huge eyes flickered from Diggory, to Bagman, and onto Mr. Crouch. Then she gulped and said, "I is seeing no one, sir…no one…"_

" _Amos," Mr. Crouch said curtly. "I am fully aware that, in the ordinary course of events, you would want to take Winky into your department for questioning. I ask you, however, to allow me to deal with her."_

 _Mr. Diggory looked as though he didn't think much of this suggestion at all, but it was clear that Mr. Crouch was such an important member of the Ministry that he dare not refuse him._

" _You may be assured that she will be punished," Mr. Crouch said coldly._

" _M-m-master…" Winky stammered, looking up at Crouch, her eyes brimming with tears. "M-m-master, p-p-please…"_

 _Mr. Crouch stared back, his face void of any emotion. There was no pity in his eyes._

" _Winky has behaved tonight in a manner I would not have believed possible," he said slowly. "I told her to remain in the tent. I told her to stay there while I went to sort out the trouble. And I find that she disobeyed me._ _ **This means clothes.**_ _"_

" _No!" Winky shrieked, throwing herself onto her master's feet, sobbing. "No, master! Not clothes, not clothes!"_

 _Winky was crying so hard her sobs echoed about the otherwise silent clearing. Mr. Weasley finally broke the silence, saying quietly, "Well, I think I'll head back to my tent, if no one objects—my children are waiting on me there. Amos, that wand's told us all it can—if I could take it, please—"_

 _Mr. Diggory handed him Harish's wand._

" _Come on you three," Sirius muttered, levitating Harish after them..._

"There's one thing I don't get," Fred said finally.

"What is that?" Harish asked, turning to his friend.

"Well, if those were—you know—your father's followers out tonight, why did they Disapparate when they saw the Dark Mark?"

"Yeah," George agreed. "They'd have been pleased to see it, wouldn't they?"

Harish shook his head.

"They have all been spending the past fourteen years trying to stay out of Azkaban," he replied. "So has my father, for that matter…Whoever conjured that Mark wasn't like the rest of them…he was unafraid to show his alliance to my father in front of the world."

"But…the person who _did_ conjure the Mark," Draco asked. "Were they doing it to show support, or to scare them away?"

"Your guess is as good as ours," Sirius said. "Listen, it's very late. I agreed with Arthur that we would all head out first thing tomorrow. We'll try to get a few more hours sleep, and then we'll catch an early Portkey out of here."

So, Harish climbed back into his bunk, his head buzzing. He ought to be exhausted, as it was nearly three in the morning, but he was wide awake. Who was it that had conjured the Mark? Who had knocked him out, and why? Had they known who his father really was?

Harish lay on his back, looking up at the canvas. No flying fantasies came to him now to ease him to sleep, and it was a long time after the other's breathing evened out that Harish finally dozed off.

* * *

 **TTFN**


	68. Part 6: Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Seven: The Anger of a Dark Lord**

Sirius woke them after only a few hours of sleep. He used magic to pack up their tent and they left the campsite as quickly as possible, meeting up with the rest of the Weasleys at the entrance. They passed Mr. Roberts, the Muggle, at the door of his cottage. He had a dazed look about him and he waved them off with a vague "Merry Christmas".

When they reached the Portkeys, they found that there was already a great number of witches and wizards gathered around Basil, the keeper of the Portkeys, all clamoring to get away from the campsite as quickly as possible. Mr. Weasley had a hurried discussion with Basil; they joined the queue, and were able to take an old rubber tire back to Stoatshead Hill before the sun had really risen.

The walk back to the Burrow was a lot easier than the walk through Ottery St. Catchpole had been, as they were now walking downhill. They talked little, as they were exhausted, and thought wistfully of breakfast. Those sausages had been ages ago.

As they rounded the corner and the Burrow came into view, a cry echoed down the lane.

"Oh thank goodness, thank goodness!"

Mrs. Weasley, who had apparently been waiting for them in the front yard, came running toward them. She still wore her bedroom slippers, and her face was pale and strained, a rolled-up copy of the _Daily Prophet_ clutched in her hand.

"Arthur—I've been so worried— _so worried—_ "

She flung her arms around Mr. Weasley's neck, and the _Daily Prophet_ fell out of her limp hand onto the ground. Looking down, Harish saw the headline: _SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP_ , complete with a twinkling, black and white picture of the Dark Mark over the treetops.

"You're all right," Mrs. Weasley muttered distractedly, releasing Mr. Weasley and staring around at them all with wet eyes, "you're alive…Oh _boys_ …"

And to everyone's surprise, she seized Fred and George and pulled them both into a hug that was so tight, their heads knocked against each other.

Harish bit back a laugh as they bit out, _"Ouch!_ Mum—you're strangling us—"

"I shouted at you before you left!" Mrs. Weasley sobbed. "It's all I've been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn't get enough OWL's? Oh Fred…George…"

"Come on, now, Molly, we're all perfectly okay," Mr. Weasley said soothingly, prying her off the twins and leading her back toward the house. "Bill," he added in an undertone, "pick up that paper, I want to see what it says…"

They all crammed into the Weasleys' tiny kitchen and Ginny made her mother a cup of tea, which Mr. Weasley insisted on pouring a shot of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey. Then, Bill handed his father the newspaper. Mr. Weasley scanned the front page while Percy looked over his shoulder.

"I knew it," Mr. Weasley said heavily. " _Ministry blunders…culprits not apprehended…lax security...Dark wizards running unchecked….national disgrace…_ Who wrote this? Ah…of course…Rita Skeeter."

"That woman's got it in for the Ministry!" Percy said furiously. "Last week she was saying that we were wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness when we should be stamping out vampires! As if it wasn't _specifically_ stated in paragraph twelve of the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans—"

"Do us a favor, Perce," Bill said, yawning. "And shut up."

"I'm mentioned," Mr. Weasley said finally. Sirius was now reading the article over his shoulder as well with curiousity.

"Where?" Mrs. Weasley sputtered, choking on her tea. "If I'd seen that, I'd have known you were alive!"

"Not by name," he replied. "Listen to this: _'If the terrified wizards and witches who waited breathlessly for news at the edge of the wood expected reassurance, the were sorely disappointed. A Ministry official emerged sometime after the appearance of the Dark Mark alleging that no one had been hurt, but refusing to give any more information. Whether this statement will be enough to squash rumors of a body that was removed from the woods…_ well, there certainly will be rumors, how that she's printed that."

"Maybe whoever it was thought I was a dead body," Harish said. "Does no one know how I passed out, still?"

Mr. Weasley let out a sigh.

"I don't know, and frankly I don't have time…Molly, I'm going to have to go into the office; this is going to take some smoothing over."

"I'll come with you, Father," Percy said importantly, and he bustled out of the kitchen, followed more slowly by his father.

Sirius turned to Harish.

"Sorry, Harry," he said, standing up and clapping his godson on the shoulder. "Try and get some rest."

That afternoon, after everyone had gotten some more sleep, Draco flooed home. Later a letter arrived from Harish's father telling him to stay at the Burrow, but ordering Sirius to come. Harish guessed that he most likely wanted to hear about what happened, but was angry enough that he didn't want his son around.

And he had guessed right.

To say that Voldemort was angry was an understatement. The Dark Lord was beyond livid. He had been spending the past fourteen _years_ creating himself a new identity, hiding in his home, and raising a child just so that he could lull the public into a false sense of security. And now it was all for naught.

His Death Eaters, the ones that knew he was still alive, just happened to get drunk at one of the biggest events in all of Wizarding Britain. Then they had terrorized a camp full of Ministry officials. After he had seen the newspaper, he had instantly sent a letter to Sirius Black, for he wanted to know what had happened.

Sirius had told him what happened and he was even more angry. Now on top of his trouble with his Death Eaters, now he knew that someone had knocked his son out. Whether it was an attempt to kill him, or it was a message to Voldemort, it was not the best of news.

And now he was going to have to fast forward all of his plans.

Mr. Weasley and Percy stayed at the Ministry all the next day and the day after that, only coming home at very late hours. The boys spent the next few days entertaining themselves by playing Quidditch. With Bill and Charlie forcing Ron to play as well, they actually had as close to a real game as they could get. Harish had fun practicing the Wronski Feint, though Mrs. Weasley wasn't happy when she had to correct Charlie's broken nose.

Finally, the Sunday evening before they were due to leave for Hogwarts, Percy returned home.

"It's been an absolute uproar," he said. For once, everyone was listening with interest. "I've been putting out fires all week. People keep sending Howlers, and of course, if you don't open it right away, it explodes. Scorch marks all over my desk and my best quill reduced to cinders."

"Why are they all sending Howlers?" Ginny asked, who was mending her copy of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ on the living room rug.

"Complaining about the security at the World Cup," Percy replied. "They want compensation for damaged property. Mundungus Fletcher's put in a claim for a twelve-bedroomed tent with en-suite Jacuzzi, but I've got his number. I know for a fact he was sleeping under an old cloak propped on sticks."

Mrs. Weasley sighed.

"Your father hasn't had to go into the office on weekends since the days of You-Know-Who," she said. "They're working him too hard. His dinner's going to be ruined if he doesn't come home soon."

"Well, Father feels he's got to make up for his mistake at the match, doesn't he? If truth be told, it was a tad unwise to make a public statement without clearing it with his Head of Department first—"

"Don't you dare blame your father for what that wretched Skeeter woman wrote!" Mrs. Weasley snapped, flaring up at once.

"If Dad hadn't said anything, old Rita would just have said it was disgraceful that no one from the Ministry had commented," said Bill, who was playing chess with Ron. "Rita Skeeter never makes anyone look good. Remember, she interviewed the Gringotts curse-breakers once, and called me 'a long haired pillock'?"

"Well, it _is_ a bit long, dear," Mrs. Weasley said gently. "If you'd just let me—"

" _No_ , Mum."

"And remember what she said a couple years ago after the Ministry break-in?" Charlie asked, moving a knight. "About how they didn't have enough security then? And no one even made any statements or anything."

"What are you two up to?" Mrs. Weasley asked suddenly, an eye on the twins.

Harish looked up from counting the money they had raised so far.

"Homework," Fred said vaguely.

"Don't be ridiculous, you're still on holiday," Mrs. Weasley replied.

"Yeah, we've left it a bit late," George said.

"You're not by any chance writing out a new _order form_ are you?" she asked shrewdly. "You wouldn't be thinking of restarting Weasley and Co. by any chance?"

"Now, Mum," Fred said looking up at her. "If the Hogwarts Express crashed tomorrow, and George and I died, how would you feel to know that the last thing we ever heard from you was an unfounded accusation?"

Everyone laughed, including Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh, your father's coming!" she said suddenly, looking up at her clock. It told not the time, but where each person in the Weasley family was.

Mr. Weasley's hand had suddenly spun from "work" to "traveling". A second later, it shuddered to a halt on "home" with the others, and they heard him calling from the kitchen.

"Coming Arthur!" called Mrs. Weasley, bustling out of the room.

A few moments later, Mr. Weasley came into the warm living room carrying his dinner on a tray. Mrs. Weasley followed him.

"Children, I think you'd best get upstairs and pack," she said. "Come on, now, we'll have to leave at a reasonable time…"

So Harish walked up to the twins room. His trunk had been sent over by his father earlier in the week. He repacked the jar of coins and then checked around the room to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. Then George heaved a pile of packages onto his bed.

"This is all the stuff Mum—"

"Bought you during the World Cup."

Harish started unwrapping the parcels. Apart from his _Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6_ , he had a handful of new quills, a dozen rolls of parchment, and refills for his potion-making kit. The rest of his books were all the advanced courses. He had stopped taking Care of Magical Creatures, and had taken up Arithmancy.

There was a shout above them just as Harish was packing the rest of his clothes into his cauldron.

"That's Ron," the twins both muttered.

"What's wrong with him?" Harish asked distractedly.

"His dress robes are a bit old…" Fred replied.

"Lucky we bought ours using our—"

"Joke shop funds before Mum could get them."

Harish turned around.

"You used the joke shop funds to buy new dress robes?" he asked, concerned.

"What?" they both said indignantly.

"You have enough money—"

"In your account to buy _three_ joke shops!"

Harish paused for a moment. Then he shrugged.

"Fair enough," he replied. He pulled out his own dress robes. They were a deep green with lighter green highlights.

He packed the last of it all into his trunk, sat on it to get it to close, and then climbed into bed and went to sleep.

* * *

 **TTFN**


	69. Part 6: Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do now own harry Potter...oops sorry gimme a sec...*type, type,type***

 **I do NOT own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Eight: House Unity of a Slytherin's Making**

The next morning the sky seemed to reflect the end of holidays mood. Rain was falling heavily, darkening the sky and splashing off of windows. Harish changed into the Muggle clothes his godfather had gotten him. They wouldn't be changing into their robes until they were on the train.

He, Fred, and George had just reached the first-floor hall on their way down to breakfast, when Mrs. Weasley appeared at the foot of the stairs, looking strained.

"Arthur!" she shouted up the staircase. "Arthur! Urgent message from the Ministry!"

The three boys flattened themselves against the wall as Mr. Weasley came barging down the stairs. His face was half shaved, his tie was undone, and his robes were on backwards. When the trio entered the kitchen, they saw Mrs. Weasley sifting through the drawers anxiously.

"I've got a quill here somewhere!" she said, clutching a piece of parchment.

In the fire, talking to Mr. Weasley was Amos Diggory's head. The flames were green, signifying that he was using floo powder to talk to them through fire places. He was talking very fast, not even noticing the flames that flickered by his ears.

"…Muggle neighbors heard bangs and shouting, so they went and called those what-d'you-call-'ems—please-men. Arthur, you've got to get over there—"

"Here!" Mrs. Weasley said, shoving a quill and parchment into her husband's hands.

"—it's a real stroke of luck I heard about it," Mr. Diggory said. "I had to come into the office early to send a couple of owls, and I found the Improper Use of Magic lot all setting off—if Rita Skeeter gets hold of this one, Arthur—"

"What does Mad-Eye say happened?" Mr. Weasley asked, his rumpled quill poised to take notes.

Diggory's head rolled its eyes. "Says he heard an intruder in his yard. Says he was creeping toward the house, but was ambushed by his dustbins."

"What did the dustbins do?" Mr. Weasley queried, scribbling frantically.

"Made on hell of a noise and spewed rubbish everywhere, as far as I can tell," Diggory replied. "Apparently one of them was still rocketing around when the please-men turned up—"

Mr. Weasley groaned.

"And what about the intruder?"

"Arthur, you know Mad-Eye. Someone creeping into his yard in the dead of night? There's probably just some shell-shocked cat wandering around somewhere covered in rubbish. But if the Improper Use of Magic lot get their hands on Mad-Eye, he's had it—think of his record—we've got to get him off on a minor charge, something in your department—what are exploding dustbins worth?"

"Might be a caution," Mr. Weasley said, still writing, his brow furrowed. "Mad-Eye didn't actually use his wand? He didn't attack anyone?"

"I'll bet he leapt out of bed and started jinxing everything he could reach out of his window, but they'll have a job proving it. There aren't any casualties."

"All right, I'm off," Mr. Weasley said, wiping shaving cream off of his face, shoving the parchment into his pocket, and dashing out of the kitchen again.

Mr. Diggory's head looked around at Mrs. Weasley.

"Sorry about this, Molly," he said calmly. "Bothering you so early…but Arthur's the only one who can get Mad-Eye off, and he's supposed to be starting his new job today. Why he had to choose last night…"

"Never mind that," Mrs. Weasley said. "Why don't you have a piece of toast before you go."

"Oh go on, then," Diggory replied.

Mrs. Weasley grabbed a piece and, using a pair of tongs, transferred it into Mr. Diggory's mouth. He said, "Fanks," before disappearing with a little pop.

"Mad-Eye Moody?" George asked finally, grabbing a piece of toast for himself. "Isn't he that nutter—"

"Your father thinks very highly of him," Mrs. Weasley said sternly.

"Yeah, well dad collects plugs doesn't he?" Fred asked.

Harish leaned over muttering, "Birds of a father…"

The twins grinned at him. In honesty, Harish didn't think very highly of Moody, and neither did his father. He was the reason so many of his father's followers were put behind bars. Harish just labelled him as a 'crazy old coot' and put him and the 'slightly dangerous' section with Dumbledore.

"…Moody was a great wizard in his time," Bill said.

"He's an old friend of Dumbledore's, isn't he?" Charlie asked.

"Dumbledore's not what you'd call normal either," Fred added. "I mean, I know he's supposed to be a genius and everything…"

"Professor Dumbledore is the greatest wizard of all time, I'll have you know," Mrs. Weasley admonished, even sternly still.

The conversation ended there and they all ate the rest of their toast in silence. Then Mrs. Weasley called up two Muggle taxis to take them to King's Cross Station. Harish was sure the drivers had been extremely unhappy by the time they arrived in London; Fred's trunk had exploded unexpectedly, causing a whole load of Filibuster's fireworks to go off in the backseat. The driver had yelled and swerved into a curb.

The trip was very uncomfortable, as they were all jammed in the back with their trunks on their laps. Then, once they finally got to the train station, the rain was coming down so hard that they were soaked completely. They couldn't cast any magic in front of the many Muggles there, so Harish's only condolence was that he would be changing into dry clothes soon enough.

Harish, Fred, and George had leaned on the barrier between platforms nine and ten, chatting unconcernedly before they fell through and turned to see the magnificent red engine of the Hogwarts Express. There was steam billowing from it and a good number of students were already on the train.

The three teens set off to find seats, and were soon stowing their trunks above their seats in the very back of the train. They didn't bother getting out and saying goodbye to the others. They were sixteen, after all. Not long after, Draco found them and joined them in the compartment. By the train pulled out of the station, rain battering the windows, the compartment was full of Harish, the twins, Daphne, Draco, Hermione, Ginny, Dean Thomas, and Angelina Johnson.

Harish and Daphne started talking about politics again. Draco, Dean, and Ginny were all holding a discussion about the Triwizard tournament. Fred and Hermione were talking about the older boys' plans for the joke shop. And Angelina and George were discussing Quidditch. It actually turned out that the two got along fairly well, even though they were from rival houses. The same went for Dean and the others. No one had noticed how Harish had changed the school, uniting the four houses, as it had been so gradual.

Then Harish began talking about other schools, and everyone else joined in to listen.

"You know, my father actually wanted to send me to Durmstrang," Draco said.

Harish nodded. "Mine considered it as well, so that I wouldn't have to be in the same building as Dumbledore. Then, I guess he decided he didn't want to send me so far away."

"Where is Durmstrang?" Fred asked.

"Well, no one knows, do they?" Hermione said, raising her eyebrows.

"Why not?" Dean asked.

"There's traditionally been a lot of rivalry between all the magic schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their locations so no one can steal their secrets."

"Well, Durmstrang must be somewhere cold," George said.

"Yeah, since they have furs on their uniforms," Fred added.

Harish nodded. "That is most likely."

As they traveled north the rain became even more heavier, if that was even possible. The sky was so dark and the windows so steamy that the lanterns were lit by midday. The lunch trolley came down the corridor then and Harish bought a few Cauldron Cakes to share with the twins. After a few hours, every tired of endless talk of Quidditch and previous Triwizard tournaments and they finally spent the last hour of the ride in silence, either reading or watching blurs pass outside the foggy window.

Finally, when they were nearly there the two Gryffindors left to join up with more from their house. The boys shooed the girls out of their compartment to change. Then, the girls returned wearing their own Hogwarts robes.

Finally the train came to a stop in the pitch-black Hogsmeade Station. As the doors opened, the was a rumble of thunder overhead. With their heads bent and eyes narrowed against the wind, they all walked across the platform.

The rain was coming down so heavily now that it felt as though ice-cold buckets of water were being poured out on them repeatedly. The wind was howling so loud that they could hardly hear the gamekeeper calling the first years as usual. It was so dark that they could hardly other the lantern of Hagrid's that was swinging to and fro.

A hundred horseless carriages were lined up and waiting on students to get inside. The group made their way over, splitting into two groups. The three girls went in one carriage, while the four boys went in another. Finally, the carriages left off and they were slowly making their way back to the castle. Harish shivered with anticipation as he could see a glimmer of golden, that shone out of each of Hogwarts's windows. They were finally going back.

* * *

 **BTW I really did accidentally type that first disclaimer. Anyway, R &R!**

 **~TTFN**


	70. Part 6: Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Nine: Enter Astoria Greengrass**

Once all of them were seated in their usual seats at the Slytherin table, they sat uncomfortably. Harish dried himself and the twins did the same. The rest of the students were completely soaked.

"Come on," both twins moaned.

"I'm hungry," Fred said.

"Starving…" George whined.

"Is food all either of you ever think about?" Hermione asked.

They paused. Fred considered her for a moment before replying cheerfully, "Pretty much!"

Harish shook his head and glanced up at the table. There were three empty chairs. One most likely belonged to Hagrid, who was seeing the first years across the lake. The other was Professor McGonagall's who was waiting for them to take them to the sorting. But, it took Harish a moment to figure out who the third person was that was missing.

"Where is the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" he asked.

"Maybe they couldn't get another one," Hermione suggested.

"That would be nice," Harish said wistfully.

Seconds later, the door burst and Professor McGonagall lead the first years down the aisles in between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. They were tiny, shivering, and so soaked that it looked as though they had swam across the lake. One boy was wearing Hagrid's huge coat. Harish laughed softly as he saw the boy mouth, "I fell in the lake!"

"They seemed to be getting shorter every year," Fred whispered to Harish, referring to the size of them.

"I swear we were never that small," George muttered.

The first years came to a stop in front of the stool that held the Sorting Hat. The Sorting Hat opened its brim and sang for a few minutes. Once the song had ended, McGonagall unrolled a large scroll of parchment.

"When I call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool," she told the first years. "When the hat announces your House, you will go and sit at the appropriate table.

"Ackerly, Stewart!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

Stewart Ackerly took of the hat and hurried into a seat at the Ravenclaw table, where everyone was applauding him.

"Baddock, Malcom!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

Harish's table erupted in cheers and the boy joined the first years at the edges of the table. A couple of the Gryffindors hissed, but most didn't mind.

"Branstone, Eleanor!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Cauldwell, Owen!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Creevey, Dennis!"

The tiny boy in Hagrid's giant coat walked up to the stool, trembling from head to foot with excitement. He nearly tripped over the enormous coat, and then scrambled into the stool and crammed the hat onto his head.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The Sorting Hat continued. Boys and girls that had various degrees of fright on their faces were sorted one by one. When McGonagall reached the G's, Harish finally saw a familiar face.

"Greengrass, Astoria!" she called.

She had plain hair and rather plain face with blue eyes and rosy cheeks. She was also very tiny. She walked to the stool, her back straight, her nose held high. Harish recognized that this was the little girl's way of trying not to show her fear. The hat fell down over her head and was held up only by her still upturned nose.

"SLYTHERIN!" the hat shouted after a moment.

Astoria took off the hat and ran over to the Slytherin table, her face flushed happily. She came straight over to them and stopped by Draco.

"Can you move over for me, Draco?" she asked sweetly.

Draco looked pained, but did as he was asked and slid to the side to let the first year sit on the bench next to him. It seemed that the only people that didn't mind her there were the twins and Hermione. Harish was slightly annoyed because he didn't want to be around his girlfriend's younger sister. Daphne was annoyed because she didn't want to be around her sister either. And Ginny was annoyed as well.

The sorting moved on painfully slow. Then food finally appeared on their plates.

"Finally," the twins said, loading their plates down.

"Who is this?" Ginny asked, gesturing toward Draco. Her voice contained a venom that surprised everyone.

"I should be asking the same of you," Astoria replied with the same amount of resentment in her voice. "But I already know you're a _Weasley_."

"This is Astoria Greengrass," Draco replied slowly.

"Yeah," Harish said, his tone light and teasing. "His betrothed."

Ginny choked on her glass of pumpkin juice.

"His _what_?" she asked incredulously.

Draco fidgeted uncomfortably and Astoria stared at him with a dazed expression.

"His betrothed," Harish repeated. "The woman that was arranged by his parents for him to marry one day."

"I think I know what betrothed means, thanks," Ginny snapped.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"You know, betrothal is an extremely outdated tradition," Hermione said finally.

Everyone nodded in agreement. Astoria snapped out of her love-struck daze and looked at Hermione, highly offended.

"I think it's a wonderful tradition!" she exclaimed indignantly. "I love Draco, after all!"

Draco looked even more uncomfortable and he began muttering incoherently under his breath. Harish could just make out him saying, "I don't—stupid— _dumb_ —love—I _don't_ —"

Harish snorted. Astoria didn't seem to notice. Soon she, Hermione, and Ginny were arguing. Hermione, mainly because she was Muggleborn. Ginny was arguing because it was now evident she did _not_ like Astoria. Everyone ate in relative silence. Conversations only popped up occasionally through bites of turkey or potatoes.

Finally, when the puddings and desserts had all vanished, Dumbledore stood to make his announcements. The buzz of chatter that filled the Hall died away almost at once so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.

"So!" Dumbledore said, smiling at them all. Harish made a face. "Now we all are fed watered, I must ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices. Mr. Filch, the caretaker, had asked me to tell you that the list of forbidden objects inside the castle had been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it

The corners of the old man's mouth twitched before he continued, "It is also painful duty that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

Several people started at this news. Angelina, who was over on the other side of the room, exclaimed loudly, " _What?!_ "

The twins were too appalled to form words. Instead, they were mouthing words soundlessly. Dumbledore went on, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy—but I am sure you will enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts—"

But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors to the Great Hall slammed open with a bang. A man stood in the doorway, leaning on a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a flash of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out the log mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers' table.

A dull clunk echoed through the Hall with every other step he took. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Harish could see that he had a wooden leg. Another flash of lightning threw his face into relief. Every inch of it was scarred . The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk was missing from his nose. But it was the man's eyes that made him looked frightening.

One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly without blinking. It was rolling up and down, side to side, quite independently of his other eye—and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head so all they could see was the whites of the large eye.

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words no student in the Hall could hear. Ge seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmilingly and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side.

Finally Dumbledore spoke again, "May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Professor Moody."

Normally other teachers applauded when their new colleagues were announced, but the remained silent. Only Dumbledore and Hagrid clapped, but the sound sounded so dismal by itself and soon faded away, as they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by his bizarre appearance to do more than stare.

"As I was saying," Dumbledore said after clearing his throat. "We are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

The tension that had formed when Moody had arrived suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and shook their heads. Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

"I can assure you that I am completely serious," Dumbledore said. The students stopped laughing. "The Triwizard Tournament was first established seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournaments once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities—that is, until the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."

" _Death toll?_ " Hermione whispered, looking slightly alarmed.

"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore went on, "none of which have been very successful. However, our own Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger."

"The Heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their contestants in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

"I'm going for it!" Fred hissed. Both he and George's faces were lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such glory and riches. He was not the only one. Most everyone in the Hall were turned to each other, whispering excitedly.

When Dumbledore began to speak again, they reluctantly fell silent.

"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," he said, "the Heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age—that is to say, seventeen years or older—will be allowed to put their names in for consideration. This—" Dumbledore raised his voice as several students shouted in outrage.

The twins looked furious.

"We'll be seventeen in April!" they shouted.

Harish couldn't help but feel disappointed. Not only would he not turn seventeen until the summer, but he was also the last person in their year who would become of age. Still Dumbledore continued, "is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them."

"I'm a sixth year!" Harish exclaimed in protest.

"Now, it is late, and I know how important it is for you all to be alert and rested for your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop, chop!"

Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody. There was a great scraping and banging as all of the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the entrance to the hall.

"They can't do that!" George howled, as he and his twin followed Harish.

"First years!" Harish called.

"We'll be seventeen in—" Fred counted on his fingers, "Less than half a year! Why can't we have a shot?"

"First year Slytherins, the common room is this way!"

"They're not stopping me from entering," Fred continued. "The champions'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be able to do normally. And a thousand Galleons prize money!"

"Look," Harish said, finally turning to them as he paused in front of the staircase that led down to the dungeons. "Are you going to keep on about this, or are you actually going to let me do my job as a prefect?"

So the twins went down in front of him, grumbling.

"All right," Harish said, herding all the short firsties together. "Come on, you lot."

* * *

 **TTFN**


	71. Part 6: Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I don't own HP**

* * *

 **Chapter Ten: Torture to insanity? Nah…**

The next morning the storm had blown itself out, leaving only clouds behind. While the fourth years were inspecting their new schedules, Harish and the twins had their heads bent together, discussing way to magically age themselves.

"We still have Care of Magical Creatures with the Gryffindors," Draco muttered. Daphne and Hermione groaned.

Harish finally looked at his own schedule.

"Arithmancy this afternoon," he said. "But this morning we have potions down in the dungeons."

"And Defense Against the Dark Arts right afterwards!" the twins chirped.

"But look at this!" George exclaimed happily. "We've got a free period now…and after break…and after lunch!"

"Excellent!" both he and Fred finished together.

So after lunch they went down to the dungeons and sat on a green couch in the common room. Harish leaned back, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. The twins pulled out more order forms, putting the finishing touches on.

"So how _will_ we hoodwink the impartial judge?" Fred asked.

"Aging potion is always worth a shot," Harish replied.

The other two nodded.

After their free period had ended, they headed to Potions. Snape had them brew the Draught of Living Death. Then they had break and another free period, as George had proclaimed earlier. Then, the three of them had Defense Against the Dark Arts. They finally left the dungeons and headed for the other side of the castle.

Once inside the classroom, they pulled out their books and chose seats at the back of the classroom. Soon they heard Moody's distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor and he entered the room, looking just as strange as ever.

"You can put those away," he growled, stumping over to his desk and sitting down, "those books. You won't need them."

They returned their books to their bags and sat impatiently. Moody took out a register, shook his long mane of grizzled hair out of his twisted face, and called out names. His normal eye moved steadily down the list while his magical eye swiveled around, fixing on each student as he or she answered. Harish noticed that once he had finished, the blue eye fixed on him and remained there for some time.

"Right then," he said. "I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've had a pretty thorough grounding in defense."

There was a general murmur of assent.

"But you haven't had much experience in offence. Namely—dealing with curses. I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I've got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark—"

"Why aren't you staying?" Terrance Higgs asked.

"Special favour to Dumbledore…"he replied. "One year, and then back to my retirement."

He gave a harsh laugh, and then clapped his gnarled hands together.

"So—straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you counter-curses and leave it at that." As he said this, Harish sat up straighter. Did this mean they would be learning about more than defence garbage this year? Moody continued after a pause, "You need to know what you're going to be up against. How are you supposed to defend yourselves against something you've never seen? A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do. He's not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to not put that stick of chewing gum under your desk, Mr. Pucey."

Adrian stopped, his hand was underneath the desk.

"That old codger can see straight through wood," he muttered, causing a few of them to laugh.

"So…" Moody said, pretending as though he hadn't heard. "Do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by Wizarding law?"

Several people raised their hands. Harish and the twins were among them.

"Weasley," Moody said, pointing to George.

"My dad told me about one…" he said. "The Imperius Curse?"

"Ah, yes," Moody said appreciatively. "Your father _would_ know all about that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse."

Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three large black spiders were scuttling around inside it. The professor reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, and held it in the palm of his hand so they could all see it. He then pointed his wand at it and muttered, " _Imperio!_ "

The spider leapt from his hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a backflip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into a tap dance.

Every was laughing except Moody.

"Think it's funny, do you?" he growled. "You'd like it, would you, if I did it to you?"

The laughter died away almost instantly.

"Total control," Moody said quietly. "I could make it jump out the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats…Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse. Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will."

"The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he barked. Everyone jumped.

Moody picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar.

"Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?"

Everyone there knew another one, probably at least from seeing it being performed by Harish five years previous. Finally, one of the girls raised their hands.

"Yes?" Moody asked, his magical eye rolling over to fix on her.

"There's one—the Cruciatus Curse," she replied in a shaky voice.

Moody got another spider from the jar and placed it on the desktop, where it remained motionless.

"The Cruciatus Curse," he said. "Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea." He pointed his wand at the spider. " _Engorgio!_ " The spider swelled to the size of a tarantula. " _Crucio!_ "

At once the spider's legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. No sound came from it, but they were all sure that it would have been screaming had it had a voice. Moody did not remove his wand, and the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently. Some students were covering their eyes, looking away, or watching Moody instead of the spider. Harish watched the spider, however. He seemed to be the only one either brave or horrible enough to watch the creature being tortured.

Finally Moody raised his wand. The spider's legs relaxed, twitching every now and then. He shrunk it back to its original size and tipped it into the jar.

"Pain," Moody said softly. "You don't need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse…That one was very popular too."

"Right…anyone know any others?"

Harish raised his hand. Both of Moody's eyes fixed on him.

"Yes?" he asked.

"The Killing Curse," he replied evenly.

"Yes, the last and the worst. _Avada Kedavra…_ the Killing Curse."

With his magical eye still remaining on Harish, Moody turned his normal one to the jar and pulled the last spider out. It scuttled frantically across the wooden surface as Moody raised his wand, and cried, " _Avada Kedavra!"_

There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound. Instantly the spider was dead. Harish vaguely wondered if that was what it had been like when his real parents had been killed. He forcefully pushed that thought from his mind. It had been a time of war. Voldemort had simply done what he had to, to protect himself.

Moody swept the dead spider off the desk and onto the floor.

"Not nice," he said. "Not pleasant. And there's no counter-curse. There's no blocking it. No one has ever been known to survive it. This curse needs a powerful bit of magic behind it—you could get your wands out now and point them at me and say the words, but I doubt I'd get so much as a nosebleed. But that doesn't matter. I'm not here to teach you how to do it."

"Now, if there's no counter-curse, why am I showing you? You've got to appreciate what the worst is. You don't want to find yourself in a situation where you're facing it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he roared again and the whole class jumped.

"Now…those three curses—Killing Curse, Imperius, and Cruciatus. The use of any one of them on another human being could result in a one way ticket to Azkaban. That's what you're up against. That's what I've got to teach you to fight. You need preparing. You need arming. But most of all you need _never ceasing, constant vigilance…_ "

Once class had let out, the three teens went down to the Great Hall for lunch. The others were already there. As Fred slid into his seat, he said, "Man. Moody's something. How cool is he?"

"Beyond cool," George replied, plopping himself down.

"Super cool," Harish added, squeezing between them.

"What's he like?" Draco asked.

"I'm not sure. Certainly not like any of the ones we've had before."

"He doesn't mind showing us things we ought to know."

"He's _been_ there, man."

After a final free period, they went to Arithmancy and then turned in for the day.

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	72. Part 6: Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven: Cheating Scum, or Friendly Mistake?**

Ron and Neville sat in the Great Hall that Wednesday morning. As Ron buttered his toast, Neville glanced up at the staff table.

"Snape seems to be in a foul mood," he said tentatively.

"Yeah," Ron replied, stuffing the bread into his mouth. "And you know why?"

"Moody?" Neville supplied.

Ron nodded in agreement.

"It's been four years now and he still doesn't have the job. First Quirrel, then the incompetent moron that was Lockhart, then a werewolf, and now an ex-auror. He must be furious."

Everyone knew that it was the Defense Against the Dark Arts position that Snape was after. Snape had displayed different degrees of dislike for their previous teachers, but now he showed a new animosity for Moody—almost as if he was wary of him. Snape often avoided the man's eye when they were around each other.

"I reckon Snape's a bit scared of him," Ron said finally. Neville looked sceptical. "What? Everyone's got to be scared of someone. You-Know-Who was scared of Dumbledore. Snape scares you. Now Snape is scared of Moody."

Neville shrugged. "I guess that makes sense."

After breakfast they headed out for their first Defense class. Everyone was so eager to have their first lesson with Moody, that the corridor was filled up before the bell rang. As soon as it did, they all filed into the room. Ron and Neville chose seats toward the front and waited for their new professor to arrive.

Moody then arrived, calling role as he had in his other class. Then, he mentioned that the fourth years had had some learning in tackling dark creatures, before moving on to his speech on the three Unforgivable Curses. Finally, he asked the class who knew of any Unforgivables.

Several students tentatively raised their hands.

"Yes, Weasley?" Moody asked.

"Uh," Ron said quietly. "Well—my dad did mention one—the Imperius Curse, isn't it?"

Moody nodded. He pulled out a jar that contained three spiders once again. Ron's hair stood on end and he pressed back into his seat slightly as Moody imperiused it and made it dart around the classroom. The demonstration was over after a few moments and the spider returned to the jar.

"Anyone else know of any unforgivable curses?" Moody asked.

Neville slowly raised his hand.

"Yes?"

"The—the Cruciatus Curse," he said, clearly, but very quietly.

"You're Longbottom, aren't you?" Moody asked, his magical eye fixing on his role sheet.

Neville nodded, his face fixed on his desk. Moody nodded, clumping over to the desk. Then, he took out another spider and enlarged it. Ron dropped all pretence and moved his desk back several feet.

" _Crucio_!" Moody barked.

Neville watched, transfixed as the spider writhed with pain. His face held a look of horror and he painfully thought of his parents, lying in the hospital, unable to recover from the pain they had suffered. His hands clenched into fists in front of him and his eyes were wide.

"Stop it!" Parvati Patil exclaimed. She was looking at Neville. "Can't you see it's bothering him?"

Moody stopped casting the spell and continued with the class. Neville only vaguely registered that he had continued talking. He had been snapped out of his daze only for a moment when the spider had died, the Killing Curse cast upon it. Then, as soon as the bell rang, he gathered his things and rushed out of the classroom. He wanted to get out of that classroom and as far away from Professor Moody as he could. He stopped, to look out a window on the staircase. It was then that Ron caught up with him.

"Are you—are you all right?" he panted.

"Oh, yes," Neville replied. His voice was unusually high. "Interesting lesson wasn't it? I wonder what's for dinner, I'm—I'm starving, aren't you?"

"Neville are you all right?" Ron repeated.

"Oh, yes, I'm fine," Neville gaggled in the same unnaturally high voice as Ron steered him down the staircase. "Very interested dinner—I mean lesson—what's for eating?"

"Are you sure you're all right? You know what—don't answer, I don't know what's for dinner," Ron said. "Why don't we go back to the common room?"

They returned to Gryffindor tower. Once there, Ron forced Neville to sit down on a couch. Neville rubbed a hand over his face and the absolutely terrified look slowly went away. Then, he said with his voice back to normal, "I—I'm sorry. I guess I should've told you sooner, but…" he trailed off. His voice returned to the unnaturally high tone again as he continued, "My parents were tortured by Death Eaters. They—they were tortured for so long that they—they don't even know who I am any more…"

"I'm sorry, Neville," Ron said sincerely. "It must be horrible."

Neville shrugged. "I still see them when I can. I tell Mum about my day…"

They trailed off into silence.

"Well," Ron said. "I think we should get started on our Divination homework."

Neville nodded soundlessly.

While the Gryffindor fourth years had an interesting Wednesday, the rest of the week passed uneventfully for the Slytherins until that Saturday. Harish had been enjoying his blissful sleep, but was rudely awoken by shouting.

"That filthy, lying, cheating, _scum!_ "

Harish sat up rubbing his eyes to see Fred kicking his trunk.

"Wha's goin' on?" he muttered.

"He—he—"

"Slow down," Harish said, putting out his hands in a stop sign. "Who?"

"Bagman! I looked in my trunk for the money he gave us at the match, but it was gone!"

"What were you wanting money for?" George was now awake, staring at his brother bleary eyed.

"I was wanting to sneak to Hogsmeade today and buy more supplies for trick sweets! But the darn—money—wasn't—there!"

"You know kicking that trunk won't solve your problems," Harish said.

"I know!" Fred exclaimed angrily, giving the trunk one last kick. "Ow!"

He clutched his toe and hobbled over to his bed.

"See?" Harish asked.

"Well what do _you_ suggest we do, Oh Mighty One?"

"Send him a letter. I'm sure it was just a mistake."

"Just a mistake my—" and he said a rather ugly word that would have had Mrs. Weasley washing his mouth out.

That evening they sat in the common room, trying to propose a letter. Every now and then one of them would scratch something out saying something along the lines of, "No—that sounds like we're accusing him…"

Finally they went to bed that night, after completing the letter and sending it off with one of the school owls. The next morning, they all watched hopefully for an owl during the owl post. And, to the three teens' surprise, an owl landed in front of Harish.

"Is it him?" Fred muttered.

"Bagman?" George questioned.

"I haven't even gotten it untied yet!" Harish exclaimed.

He untied the letter and unrolled it.

"No," he said. He scanned the letter's contents quickly.

" _What?"_ the twins asked in disappointment.

"Who's it—"

"From!?"

"Sirius," Harish whispered.

"What does it say?"

"Have a look," Harish replied. He held the letter out slightly and the two Weasleys leaned forward to read it.

It read:

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I thought that you might like to know that I am returning north. Your father wants someone to keep an eye on you this year. He reckons trouble is brewing. Dumbledore does too, if he has really appointed an ex-auror as your teacher. I can't say much more here, in case this letter is intercepted. I hope you have had a good term so far._

 _Love,_

 _Sirius_

"'Trouble is brewing'?" the twins quoted. "What kind of trouble?"

Harish shrugged.

"I don't know…but if it's worrying my father, I definitely think we should be worried as well."

* * *

 ***TTFN***


	73. Part 6: Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...**

* * *

 **Chapter Twelve: Of Snobby French Girls and Other Things**

The sixth years noticed that all of their schoolwork was getting more and more difficult than it had ever been before. In Defense Against the Dark Arts, they were doing work on Curses every other day. Any moment in between was spent reviewing spells they had already learned—but performing them without saying a word. Soon, all of their other classes were requiring nonverbal spells as well. Harish was also aggravated to find that each of their free periods were spent tackling the mounds of homework they were assigned in all of their classes.

The fourth years were finding that their classes were becoming increasingly demanding as well. They _did_ have OWL's coming up.

"But we don't take OWL's until fifth year!" Dean complained as Professor McGonagall told them this.

"Maybe not, Thomas, but believe me, you need all the preparation you can get! Miss Granger remains the only person in your year who has managed to turn a hedgehog into a pincushion. I might remind you that your pincushion still squeaks and curls up in fright when it is approached by a pin!"

And Professor Moody's classes especially had become more demanding for the fourth years. This started when he had announced he would be performing the Imperius Curse on them.

"But—but you said it's illegal, sir," Hermione said uncertainly as Moody cleared away the desks. "You said—to use it against another human was—"

"Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like," Moody growled, his magical eye swiveling onto Hermione and fixing her with an unblinking stare. "If you'd rather learn the hard way—when someone's putting it on you so they can control you completely—fine by me. You're excused. Off you go."

He pointed one gnarled finger at the door. Hermione looked down at her feet and mumbled about not wanting to leave.

When the sixth years were told they would be put under the Imperius Curse— _that_ was an adventure.

"You're not getting me!" George said indignantly.

"Yeah," Fred agreed. "I'd rather have my dignity remain intact."

"You will _do_ as you are _told_ ," Moody said in an eerily calm voice. "Unless you want to leave my class and not come back."

Both of the redheads sniffed and dusted off their robes, sticking their noses in the air.

"Fine—but we're going last."

And they went and stood in the back of the line. Everyone in their class laughed. Harish was already in line, toward the front. Then, each person was put under the Imperius Curse. Several students did silly things—they hopped around the room on one foot singing the national anthem, imitated squirrels, or did amazing feats of gymnastics that no one would be able to do normally. Finally, it was Harish's turn and he stepped forward.

" _Imperio!_ "

It was the most wonderful feeling. Harish felt a floating sensation as ever thought and worry in his head was wiped gently away, leaving nothing but a vague happiness. He stood there, feeling immensely relaxed, only dimly aware of everyone watching him.

Then he heard Mad-Eye Moody's voice in the back of his head: _Jump onto the desk…jump onto the desk…_

Harish bent his knees obediently, preparing to spring.

 _Jump onto the desk…_

Why though? Another voice asked.

Stupid thing to do, really, said the voice.

 _Jump onto the desk…_

No, I don't think I want to, thanks, said the other voice, a little more firmly…no, I don't really want to…

 _Jump! NOW!_

The next thing Harish knew was he was feeling a considerable pain. He had both jumped and tried to prevent himself from jumping—the result was that he had smashed headlong into the desk, knocking it over, and by the feeling in his legs, fractured both his knee caps.

"Now, _that's_ more like it!" Moody growled. Suddenly the floating sensation disappeared and Harish's pain doubled.

"Look at that, you lot…Blake fought! He fought it, and he damn near beat it! We'll try that again, Blake, and the rest of you, pay attention—watch his eyes, that's where you see it—very good, Blake, very good indeed! They'll have trouble controlling _you_!"

After class had ended, the twins had helped Harish hobble up to the infirmary. Moody had insisted on casting the spell on him four more times until he had finally managed to throw the curse off completely. Madam Pomfrey had tsked at him once again, tapped her wand on his knees, and instantly they felt loads better.

"Thanks!" he said before rushing out of the infirmary. Then he and the twins made their way down to the common room. As they passed the entrance hall, they found themselves unable to proceed owing to the large crowd of students congregated there. Harish, who was the tallest of the three, stood on tiptoe and read the sign aloud for the two redheads:

 **TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT**

The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be

arriving at 6 o' clock on Friday the 30th of October. Lessons

will end half an hour early. Students will return their bags

and books to their dormitories and assemble in front of the

castle to greet our guests before the Welcoming Feast.

"Only a week away!" Ernie MacMillan of Hufflepuff exclaimed, emerging from the crowd. "I wonder if Cedric knows? I think I'll go tell him…"

"Diggory as Hogwarts champion?" Harish asked scathingly.

The trio made their way down to the common room. Everyone was buzzing with the news of the foreigners arriving in a week.

"Are you going to go for it?" one seventh year asked Harish.

"I'm not seventeen yet. I won't even be of age until August!"

"So?" another student asked. "If anyone in our house tries out, it should be you."

"Yeah!" Daphne agreed, appearing at Harish's shoulder. "Who cares about that stupid age limit? You're a sixth year anyway!"

So this got Harish thinking and he formulated a plan.

On the morning of the thirtieth of October, they went up to breakfast to find that the Great Hall had been decorated overnight. Large silk banners hung from the walls, each of them representing a house: red with a gold lion for Gryffindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver serpent for Slytherin. Behind the teachers' table was the largest banner of all, which bore the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badge, and snake united around a large letter H.

Harish and the twins sat in the centre of the tables, discussing about how Bagman hadn't sent them anything yet. They had put off sending the letter, trying to arrange for him to meet with them, but he kept shooting them down.

"It's a bummer, all right," George was saying as the fourth years sat down across from them. "But if he won't talk to us in person, we'll have to send him the letter after all. Or we'll stuff it in his hand. He can't avoid us forever."

"Who's avoiding you?" Draco asked as he sat down.

"Wish you would," Fred said irritably. The twins had been in a rather bad mood since they found out that Bagman had paid them in leprechaun gold.

"Have you guys had any ideas about the Triwizard Tournament, yet?" Draco asked, hastily changing the subject. "Thought any more about entering?"

"I asked Professor McGonagall how the champions were chosen," George replied bitterly.

"Really?" Draco asked with interest. "What did she say?"

"To shut up and mind his own business," Fred replied.

"I wonder what the tasks will be," Daphne said. "They'll probably be something dangerous."

"Nothing we couldn't handle," Fred said.

"We've done dangerous stuff before," George added.

"Course, not in front of a panel of judges," Harish said.

The three fourth years looked confused.

"McGonagall says the champions get awarded points according to how well they complete the tasks," Fred specified.

"Who are the judges?" Draco asked.

"Well, the Heads of the participating schools are always on the panel," Hermione said. Everyone looked at her, rather surprised. "All three of them were injured during the tournament of 1792, when a cockatrice the champions were supposed to be catching went on a rampage."

She noticed them all looking at her and said, with her usual air of impatience as she stuck out her nose, "It's all in _Hogwarts: A History."_

After breakfast, they all separated and went to their different classrooms. No one really paid attention in their lessons the entire day. Potions for the fourth year Gryffindors was more bearable than usual, as it was half an hour shorter. The same went for the sixth year Care of Magical Creatures. It turned out that Hagrid had found a new kind of ferocious beast for his students to deal with; Blast-Ended Skrewts.

They hadn't been so bad when they were about an inch or two long, but now they were almost a foot, and loved to shoot blasts of fire at any sixth year that came near. By the time the class had ended, Harish was nursing a burnt hand as they rushed to the common room to drop their bags off. Then, they hurried back upstairs and into the entrance hall.

The Heads of Houses were ordering their students into lines.

"First years in front," Snape snapped. "Taller students in the back—Blake, fix your hair!"

Harish scowled and straightened his hair, which he had rumpled up at the back. Then he gave his head a flick and his hair flipped out of his eyes.

They filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening. Dusk was falling and a pale, transparent looking moon was already shining overhead. They all waited; impatiently in Harish's case. They stared up at the starry sky for what seemed like ages. Finally, Harish cried, "I see something!"

Something large was hurtling across the deep blue sky, toward the castle. As it drew nearer, it grew larger and larger.

"It's a dragon!" one of the first years shrieked, losing their heads completely.

"Don't be stupid!" one of the Creevey boys said. "…It's a flying house!"

His guess was closer…As the gigantic shape drew closer, skimming over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest, they saw what it was; a gigantic, powder blue, horse-drawn carriage. There was about a dozen of the horses and each were huge and winged. Each was the size of an elephant.

The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled even lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed. Then, with a great crash that made Neville jump backward onto Hermione's foot, the horses' hooves hit the ground. A second later, the carriage bumped and slid to a halt.

Harish had just enough time to see a coat of arms that consisted of two golden wands crossed and emitting three stars, before the door opened.

A boy in pale blue robes jumped down, bent forward, fumbled with something for a moment on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectively. Then Harish saw a shining, high heeled shoe emerging from the carriage—a shoe the size of a child's sled—followed immediately by the largest woman Harish had ever seen. The size of the carriage and the horses was suddenly explained. A few people gasped.

As she stepped into the light that spilled from the castle, she was revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face; large, black, liquid looking eyes; and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was pulled into a bun and she was dressed in black satin.

Dumbledore started to clap and everyone else slowly joined in. After the giant woman followed several students, each dressed in silk robes and shivering in the cool breeze.

"Madame Maxime," Dumbledore greeted, kissing her hand. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr," Madame Maxime said in a deep voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, than you," Dumbledore replied.

"My pupils," Madam Maxime said, waving a careless hand to the boys and girls that stood, huddled by the carriage.

They had wrapped themselves up in various scarves and shawls and were looking up at the castle with apprehensive looks on their faces.

"'As Karkaroff arrived yet?" Madame Maxim asked.

"He should be here any moment," Dumbledore replied. "Would you like to wait here to greet him, or would you prefer to warm up a trifle inside?"

"Warm up, I think," Madame Maxime said. "But ze 'orses—"

"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," Dumbledore said, "the moment he had returned from dealing with some of our—uh—other charges."

"Skrewts," Draco muttered. Daphne and Hermione grinned.

"My steeds require forceful 'andling," Madame Maxime said, looking as though she doubted any teacher at Hogwarts could be up for the job. "Zey are very strong…"

"I assure you that Hagrid will be up for the job," Dumbledore said, smiling.

"Very well," Madame Maxime replied, bowing slightly. "Will you please tell zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink single-malt whiskey?"

"It will be attended to," Dumbledore said, bowing as well.

"Come," Madame Maxime said imperiously to her students.

The Hogwarts crowd parted to allow them to pass up the stone steps.

"How big d'you reckon Durmstrang's horses are going to be?" one of the Gryffindors asked.

"Oh please," Harish said. Several students turned to him. "They won't be coming by _sky_. That's already been _done_."

"So how will they be arriving?" a Ravenclaw asked.

Harish shrugged.

"I don't know _everything_."

The waited, shivering slightly now, for Durmstrang to arrive. Some people still stared up at the sky while others looked all around them. For a few minutes, the silence was broken only by the stamping and snorting of Madame Maxime's horses. But then—

"Can you hear something?" Ron asked suddenly.

Everyone else listened intently. An odd eerie noise was drifting toward them out of the darkness: a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as though an immense vacuum cleaner was moving along the riverbed.

"The lake!" another Gryffindor cried. "Look at the lake!"

From where they were, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water—except that the surface was no longer smooth any more. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the centre; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks—and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool…and then Harish saw rigging of a ship…

"It's a mast!" he said to the twins.

Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to slide toward the bank. A few moments later, they heard an anchor splash as it was thrown into the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

People were disembarking; they could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship's portholes. All of them, Draco noticed, seemed to be built along the lines of Crabbe and Goyle, who were two boys Draco had been forced to play with as a child. As they drew nearer, it was revealed that their bulk was actually large fur cloaks, coarse and matted. But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair.

"Dumbledore!" he called heartily as he walked up the slope. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied.

As he stepped into the light, they saw that Karkaroff was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short and his goatee (finishing in a small curl) did not entirely hide his rather weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own.

"Dear old Hogwarts," he said, looking up at the castle and smiling. His teeth were rather yellow and Harish noticed that his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd. "How good it is to be here, how good…Viktor, come along, into the warmth…you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold…"

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy passed, Harish caught a glimpse of a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He didn't need the punch on the arm from Draco, or the hiss in the ear from the twins, to recognize that profile.

"Harish— _it's Krum_!"

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	74. Part 6: Chapter 13

**Di** **sclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirteen: Hoodwinking the Goblet of Fire**

As they walked back up the steps to the castle, everyone was whispering, or exclaiming loudly in Ron's case, about how Viktor Krum was here, at Hogwarts. Most students were astounded that the best Seeker was still in school. Most people don't join national teams until they leave school. But then again, most schools didn't have a four sided, inter house championship.

As they recrossed the entrance hall with the rest of the students, Harish even saw a few people jumping up and down, trying to get a better look at Krum. Several sixth-year girls were frantically searching their pockets as they walked—

"Oh, I don't believe it, I haven't got a single quill on me!"

"D'you think he'd sign my hat in lipstick?"

" _Really,_ " Hermione said loftily as they passed the girls, now squabbling over the lipstick. She gave a haughty sniff and pranced inside the Great Hall. Harish followed with amusement.

They made their way over to the Slytherin table and sat in the very center. The students from Durmstrang were still standing in the doorway, as if they were unsure where to sit. The Beauxbatons, on the other hand had already placed themselves at the Ravenclaw table and were staring about the Great Hall glumly. Three of them were still clutching scarves or shawls over their heads.

"It's not _that_ cold," Hermione said defensively. "Why didn't they bring cloaks?"

Finally, the Durmstrang lot were led over to the Slytherin table.

"Mind if ve sit here?" Krum said in a thick accent.

Harish shrugged and gestured for him to sit. They did so, Krum sitting to Hermione's left. All of his buddies sat around him. Then they all began pulling off their furs and staring up at the starry black sky with expressions of interest. A couple of them were picking up the golden plates and goblets and examining them, apparently impressed.

"It's bewitched to look that way," Harish said, catching Krum looking up at the sky.

Krum nodded.

"It must have taken some difficult spells to pull that off," he said.

Harish shrugged again. "I guess none of us have really thought about it much. You get used to it."

Krum had a dubious expression on his face, but he didn't say anything in reply. Harish glanced up at the staff table to see Filch adding chairs. He was wearing his moldy old tailcoat in honor of the occasion. Harish was surprised to see that he added four chairs; two on either side of Dumbledore's. Harish leaned over to George.

"Why is he adding those chairs, do you reckon?" he asked. "There are only two extra people."

"Well, some Ministry workers will be judging," Fred replied.

"Dad was saying how worked up they all were," George added.

Harish nodded.

Once all of the students had entered the Hall and settled down at their tables, the staff entered, filing up to the top table and taking their seats. Last in line were Professors Dumbledore, Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons all leapt to their feet. A few Hogwarts students laughed. The French party seemed unembarrassed, however, and did not resume their seats until Maxime had sat down on Dumbledore's left hand side. Dumbledore remained standing, and a silence fell over the Great Hall.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and—most particularly—guests," Dumbledore said, beaming around at the foreigners. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both enjoyable and rather comfortable."

One of the girls from Beauxbatons gave a small, derisive laugh. Hermione bristled angrily.

"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," Dumbledore continued. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

He sat down, and Harish saw Karkaroff lean forward at once and engage the old man in conversation.

The plates in front of them filled with food as usual. Harish couldn't help but notice that there was a much more of a variety of food that usual, several of them definitely foreign.

"What's _that_?" the twins asked, pointing at a large dish of some sort of shellfish stew that stood beside a large steak-and-kidney pudding.

"Bouillabaisse," Hermione replied.

"Bless you," Fred said, serving himself some chicken.

A few of the Durmstrang students laughed, their mouths full of food.

"It's _French_ ," Hermione scolded. "I had some on holiday summer before last. It's very nice."

"I'll take your word for it," Fred said, now dumping potatoes onto his plate.

It seemed much more crowded than usual, even though there were barely twenty additional students. Perhaps it was because of their differently colored uniforms that stood out so clearly against the black of the Hogwarts robes. Now that they had removed their furs, the Durmstrang students were revealed to be wearing robes of a deep blood-red.

While Harish was talking with Hermione and Krum, the twins were looking around at the foreign students. George caught sight of one girl and his mouth fell open. She had long, silvery long hair, clear blue eyes, and perfectly straight teeth. He wordlessly poked Fred in the back and pointed. Then Fred made a face identical to his twin's.

"She's a _veela_!" George said hoarsely to his twin.

Harish turned and looked as well. He thought she looked rather pretty, though he didn't react the way the twins had. Hermione and Draco turned as well.

"Of course she isn't!" Hermione said tartly. "I don't see anyone else gaping at her!"

But she was quite right about that. As the girl walked to her table, carrying a dish of something, many boys' heads turned and some of them seemed to have become temporarily speechless.

"I'm not so sure about that!" Harish said, laughing and pointing to Ron, who had gone purple in the face.

"Well, Draco isn't goggling at her," Ginny added.

Hermione nodded.

"Well he doesn't exactly count, does he?" Harish asked, cutting his meat.

"Why's that?" Ginny, Hermione, and Daphne asked.

At the same time Harish replied, "He's part veela," Astoria said sweetly, "He has me!"

Everyone turned and looked at her. Draco looked uncomfortable again.

"Look!" he said, pointing to the staff table and trying to change the topic. "Look who just arrived."

The two extra seats were now filled. One by Ludo Bagman, who was by Karkaroff, and the other was filled by Barty Crouch, who sat by Madame Maxime.

"They must the other judges," Harish said.

Not long after the last of the judges arrived, the golden plates were wiped clean after the students had devoured three courses and a plate full of desserts. Then, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now. Everyone felt a thrill of excitement, wondering what was coming. The twins were staring at Dumbledore with great concentration, and Harish was staring at him with great interest. Draco, on the other hand, was practically vibrating in his seat from excitement.

"The moment has come," Dumbledore said, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words before we bring in the casket just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, allow me to introduce Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of Department of International Magical Cooperation"—there was a bit of polite applause—"and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of Department of Magical Games and Sports."

The applause was much louder this time. Either because of his fame for being a Beater, or simply because he looked so much more likeable. He acknowledged it with a jovial wave of his hand. Mr. Crouch did not smile or wave when his name was announced. His toothbrush mustache and severe part looked very odd next to Dumbledore's long white hair and beard.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore said, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."

At the mention of the word "champions", the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled and said, "The casket, then, Mr. Filch."

Filch, who had been lurking in a corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. A murmur of excitement interest rose from the watching students.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman, and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways…their magical prowess—their daring—their powers of deduction—and their ability to cope with danger."

At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so thick that no one seemed to be breathing.

"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament," Dumbledore went on, "one from each school. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the tasks and the champion with the highest total after the third task will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

The old man took out his wand and tapped the casket three times. The lid creaked open slowly. The headmaster reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames.

Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be seen clearly around the Hall.

"Anyone wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet. Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours to put their names forth."

People began whispering excitedly.

"Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it had judged most worthy to represent their schools, the goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be accessible to all those wishing to compete. To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line."

Harish and the twins growled.

"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been chosen, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

So they all returned to the common room. Everyone came up around Harish, asking if he was going to enter the tournament. Harish nodded and set his plan into action. That night, three boys over the age of seventeen left the Slytherin common room and put three slips into the goblet.

The next morning, the Great Hall was decorated with a cloud of live bats and leering pumpkins that floated in every corner. As they sat down, they discussed the Goblet of Fire. All of the Durmstrang students had already put their names in, along with Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff. Then, they all stopped as there was a cheering out in the entrance hall. They all turned to see Angelina Johnson coming into the Hall.

Not long after that, each of the Beauxbatons students stepped across the Age Line and dropped their slips of parchment into the blue-white flames.

Then, everyone returned for the Halloween feast. Harish didn't enjoy it as much as he normally would have. Maybe it was because it was the second feast they had had within the past two days, or maybe they all were simply impatient to find out who the three champions that had been chosen were. All the same, the feast seemed to go on for ages. All around the Hall, Harish could see craning necks, edgy faces, fidgeting, and students even standing up to see whether Dumbledore had finished eating yet.

At long last, the golden plates finally emptied, returning to their original spotless state. There was a sharp upswing in noise, which fell instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Karkaroff and Madame Maxime were looking as tense and expectant as all of the students. Bagman was beaming around at them, and Crouch simply looked bored.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," Dumbledore addressed then. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them to please come up to the front of the Hall and go into the next chamber"—he indicated to the door behind the staff table—"where they will be receiving their first instructions."

He took out his wand and extinguished all of the candles with one wave, plunging the into darkness. The only light was coming from the blue flames that were dancing along the brim of the goblet. It was almost painful to look at as it seemed even brighter. Everyone watched, waiting…A few people checked their watches….

Then, the flames in the goblet suddenly turned red. Sparks began to fly from it. The next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it—the whole room gasped.

Dumbledore caught the slip of parchment and held it in the light of the flames, which had turned blue once more.

"The champion for Durmstrang," he read in a strong clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."

A storm of applause swept through the hall as Krum stood up. Harish shook his hand before he headed off down the aisle, along the staff table, and into the door that led out of the hall.

"Bravo, Viktor!" Karkaroff boomed, loud enough that everyone could hear him over the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"

The clapping and chattering died down as the goblet turned red again. A second piece of paper shot out of it, propelled by the flames.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," Dumbledore read, "is Fleur Delacour!"

"It's her!" Fred shouted hoarsely.

Harish rolled his eyes and clapped his hands together slowly as the twins applauded furiously. Hermione rolled her eyes as well, at almost the exact same moment. Then, she glanced over at the Ravenclaw table.

"Oh look," she said. "They're all disappointed."

"Disappointed?" Harish asked, glancing over at them. "Don't you think that is a bit of an understatement?"

And it was true. A few of them had laid their heads down on the table and their shoulders shook with sobs.

When Fleur Delacour had disappeared as well, silence fell again. This time it was so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it. The Hogwarts champion would be next…

And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showering out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.

He stared at it for the briefest of seconds. The he cleared his throat and read, "Harish Blake." The Hall was so silent, that this could be heard perfectly well by all. Harish put on a confused look, but on the inside he was not surprised. He _was_ perfect after all; how could anyone else be chosen? The teen was lost for a few seconds as he relished in his victory. Then, he was shaken back into awareness when Dumbledore called, "Harish Blake!"

Harish finally stood up and swallowed visibly for show. No trace of his ecstasy was visible. Then, a heartbeat later, all of the Slytherins began screaming and stamping, clapping and cheering. Dean Thomas joined in, and soon a few others from other houses did as well. The only student who looked unhappy was Ron.

But, as Harish made his way up the aisle, he caught glimpse of Dumbledore's face. It was slightly disconcerting as the twinkle was completely gone from the man's eyes. He was watching Harish with suspicion and anger. The rest of the staff was as well. As Harish passed him and the goblet, the hall suddenly became silent. On the floor, the light emitted from the goblet changed from blue to red. Harish saw this, turned, and looked at the goblet as it spat out a fourth and final piece of paper.

Dumbledore took it in his hand and opened it up.

" _Harish Blake_ ," he read, almost to himself.

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	75. Part 6: Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Chapter Fourteen: And Three Becomes Four—More or Less**

Harish hesitated for a minute, before going ahead and walking past the staff table into the next chamber. As he pushed the door open, the other two champions turned to look at him. They were standing in front of a roaring fire. Harish smiled briefly at them before closing the door behind him.

"So you made it?" Krum asked. Harish nodded. "Vell done."

"Thanks," Harish said, walking forward to join them.

There was silence. Then, the door opened with a bang and a scurrying of feet echoed behind them as Bagman, Crouch, Dumbledore, Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime entered the room.

"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire?" Dumbledore asked, seizing him by the arm.

Harish closed his mind, but looked him in the eye.

"N-no," he stammered, still keeping a look of confusion.

"Did you get an older student to put it in for you?" Dumbledore questioned again.

"No! That things just—broken! It's broken, I say! How else could my name have come out twice?"

" _Tvice_?" Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum both parroted.

"Yes," Bagman replied, wiping his shiny face. The staff finally entered behind the others. "Lady, gentleman, may I introduce the third _and_ fourth champion, Harish Blake."

Both of the foreign students straightened up and stared at Bagman. Krum glanced to Harish, silently asking if this was true, receiving a nod. Fleur, however, tossed her long silvery hair and scoffed, "Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman."

"I am afraid it is no joke," Professor McGonagall replied seriously. "His name just came out of the Goblet of Fire—twice no less."

"Surely it is broken," Krum said finally.

"Yes," Fleur agreed. "Evidently zair 'as been a mistake."

Harish nodded.

"There is one way the boy's name could have gotten into the cup," a voice growled near the door. There was a dull _clunk, clunk_ as Moody walked forward. "Someone could have put Blake's name into the goblet and to _ensure_ he made it, put it under another school as well."

"Yes, obviously 'e wanted the odds fixed in 'is favour!" Madame Maxime exclaimed.

"Only dark magic could have hoodwinked an object as powerful as the Goblet of Fire!" McGonagall shot back. "Anything beyond a student here could do."

"If anyone's got reason to complain, it's Blake…as he _didn't_ put his name in in the first place."

"But why should 'e complain?" Fleur asked, stomping her foot. "'E 'as ze chance to compete, 'asn't 'e? We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honor for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money—zis is a chance many would die for!"

"Maybe someone's hoping Blake _is_ going to die for it," Moody growled.

The silence that followed these words was extremely tense. Harish stood there awkwardly. Moody had just voiced what he had been wondering ever since his name had come out the second time. Sirius's words that he had sent in his letter weeks before echoed around the inside of Harish's head.

" _Your father wants someone to keep an eye on you this year. He reckons trouble is brewing..."_

Ludo Bagman was looking very anxious, bouncing up and down on his toes. "Moody old man," he muttered. "What a thing to say!"

"We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn't discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime," Karkaroff said loudly. "Apparently he is now teaching his students to fear assassination as well."

"Imagining things, am I? Seeing things, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boy's name in that goblet…"

"Ah, what evidence is zere of zat?" Madame Maxime asked, throwing up her huge hands.

"Vy is this such a big deal?" Krum asked all of a sudden. The others turned toward him.

"Zere are three champions, aren't zere?" Fleur asked. "What _does_ zis matter?"

Harish noticed that both of them had stepped forward to where they were standing slightly in front of him.

"Vy don't ve just get on vith the procedure so ve can return to our beds for the night?"

"I honestly see no reason of why zis is so important. Zis Blake can compete, for all I care."

Everyone was staring at the two of them in surprise—even Harish. There was a tense silence before Bagman rubbed his hands together and smiled.

"Well, shall we crack on, then?" He looked around the room. "Got to give instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honors?"

Mr. Crouch seemed to come out of a deep reverie.

"Yes," he said, "instructions. Yes…the first task…"

He moved forward into the firelight. Close up, Harish thought he looked ill. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and his skin looked paler and thinner.

"The first task is designed to test your daring," he told Fleur, Krum, and Harish, who had stepped forward to join the others, "so we are not going to tell you what it us. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard…very important… The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges.

The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to compete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over, Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests."

Mr. Crouch turned to look at Dumbledore.

"I think that's all is it, Albus?"

"I think so," Dumbledore said. He was looking at Crouch with mild concern. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay the night, Barty?"

"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry," Mr. Crouch replied. "It is a very busy, busy time at the moment…I've left young Weatherby in charge…Very enthusiastic…a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told…"

Harish snorted, knowing that the man was talking of the twins' older brother, Percy. Everyone started to file out. Madame Maxime had her arm around Fleur's shoulders and the two of the were talking in rapid French. Most of the teachers had left as well. Karkaroff motioned for Krum to follow. The slightly older boy paused and nodded to Harish before leaving as well. Not eager to be left alone with Dumbledore, Harish hurried out after them. Then he cross the entrance hall and went down the many flights of stairs to the dungeons. As he went, he brooded about what Moody had said.

Then, as the entrance to the common room opened up, there was an earsplitting noise that caused Harish to jump out of his skin. Next thing he knew, the twins had seized him and wrenched him down the steps into the common room. All around him, people were screaming, applauding, and whistling.

Then, people forced food into his hands. Someone had even unearthed an old Slytherin banner from somewhere and tied it around him like a cloak. Harish was only able to get away after half an hour, insisting he needed to go to bed. He looked at the twins pointedly and they followed him down to their dorm.

"Why did it come out twice?" they asked him as he leaned tiredly onto his bed.

The sixteen-year-old shook his head.

"I mean, I know I had Avery put it in," he said. "But I don't know who put the other one in?"

"Wait, so someone else—"

"Put your name in too?"

Harish nodded.

"Old Mad-Eye reckons someone put it into the goblet under another school."

The twins nodded.

"That does make sense," Fred muttered.

"And you remember what Sirius sent me in his letter?" Harish added. " _'…trouble is brewing…'_ Maybe my father suspected this."

"I think you should write him about this," George said. "Him—"

"And Sirius," Fred added.

Harish nodded. He rummaged for a second in his trunk before pulling out his quill and a piece of parchment. As he scribbled a letter down, the twins continued mulling over that night's events as they got ready for bed.

"But why put your name in again?" George asked as he tugged a pajama shirt over his head.

Harish paused briefly, glancing up at them before shrugging and continuing to write.

"Maybe—well—do you reckon someone has it in for Harish?" Fred wondered aloud, smothering his toothbrush in white paste.

"That's what Moody thinks," Harish muttered.

"Huh?" both twins asked, pausing. George was halfway through putting on a pair of trousers while Fred had a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth.

Harish huffed slightly and set his quill down.

"That is exactly what old Mad-Eye thinks—that someone is trying to kill me. Probably thinks the tasks alone are dangerous enough to do it for me."

The twins snorted.

"Whoever it was must not know you too well, mate," they said.

With that they slid into their beds. Harish set finished letter aside and climbed into bed, fully clothed. What the twins said was true. While they might not have known who put it in, at least Harish had the comfort that whoever it was had no idea how determined and prepared for anything he was.

* * *

 **TTFN**


	76. Part 6: Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Fifteen: Cryptic Warnings and Worried Friends**

Sunday morning, after Harish woke up it took him a moment why he felt so worried and had gone to bed fully clothed. Then the events of the previous night hit him like a sledge hammer and he wrenched his hangings aside, grabbing his letter he had written. He duplicated it and grabbed a cloak. He passed the twins, who were still snoring softly. Then, he headed out to the Owlry.

Once there, he convinced an owl to take the letters; one to his father and the other to Sirius. The sixteen-year-old watched the owl disappear, pulling his cloak tighter around him. It was beginning to grow chilly, the nip of winter coming in. The grounds were covered in dew and mist lay in little billows, rolling across the lake. The Durmstrang ship was shadowed, docked by the nearest lake. Over by Hagrid's cabin, where smoke furled out of the chimney, the Beauxbatons powder blue carriage sat.

Harish stood there and admired it all, staring down at the still, quiet, empty space. No one had risen yet. No one was bothering him. The Slytherin let out a sigh and turned to leave. Just then, the door to the Owlry opened to reveal Daphne. She wore a cloak as well and her cheeks were slightly pink from cold. In her hands was a stack of steaming toast, wrapped in a napkin.

"I thought I might find you here," she said with a smile. "You want to go for a walk?"

Harish nodded.

"Good idea," he said.

The two of them exited the Owlry together and made their way across the entrance hall. Then, they walked along the edge of the lake. As they passed the Durmstrang ship, Daphne handed Harish some toast.

"I brought this for you, by the way," she said.

"Thanks," Harish said with a smile, biting into the toast.

"I figured you wouldn't want to go in there this morning," she said, talking about the Great Hall. "Everyone knows you had your name put in the goblet, of course. None of the Slytherins care, but the rest either hate that you made it, or think that there was some sort of fluke because your name came out twice."

"I do not care what they think," Harish replied, finishing his piece of toast. Daphne handed him another.

"I know that, but about your name being put in the twice—"

"I have no idea who else put my name in. I only put it in once."

Daphne nodded. "I know. Hermione and I were talking about it last night, and she thinks that someone else put it in as well. And, Harish—" Daphne came to a halt. "Whoever did it is no friend of ours."

Now it was Harish's turn to nod in agreement.

"The twins and I talked about it too. We came to the same conclusion that whoever put it in must be trying to do me in."

"And you are not worried about it?" she asked, her voice climbing in pitch.

"Why should I be? Whoever put it in must not really know me. They must not know that I would win no matter what. And certainly not who my father is."

"But that's the thing!" Daphne said, stomping her foot on the ground. Her voice was shaking. "Maybe they put it _because_ they knew who your father is! You can't strut around the castle thinking that no one's out to get you, because obviously they are!" Harish opened his mouth in anger, but Daphne kept on. "Chances are, if you aren't killed by the tournament, whoever put your name in will find some other way to kill you! And—"

Daphne broke off, looking away at the lake. Harish's eyes softened as he realized the only reason she was speaking angrily with him was because she was worried about him. Harish tossed his last piece of toast into the lake and they both watched as a pale tentacle scooped it under the water. Then, the sixth year finally said, "Don't worry. I will take care. And Sirius is coming up here to make sure I am all right."

Daphne wiped her eyes and smiled at him.

"Now come on, before anyone misses us," Harish said, taking her hand and leading her back to the castle.

The next day showed Harish how exactly accurate Daphne was when she had said that most of the castle was either angry with him or angry with the goblet. There were a few people outside of Slytherin that didn't mind such as Dean, Neville, Angelina, Luna, and a few others. The rest of them shot him glares across the Great Hall or whispered about him as he passed in the corridors. The Hufflepuffs were especially annoyed.

They never got any glory. Because of this, all of them had been hoping that Cedric would make it. Now a Slytherin who wasn't even of age had stolen their champion's thunder. It was ironic, as Cedric didn't really mind all that much himself. Harish was amused at first by the others' reactions, but by the end of the week it had gotten old.

Another person that was really bothered with having Harish as the school champion was Ron. Whenever they were near each other, Ron would insult him or make some snide remark. Whenever they _weren't_ together, Ron would talk loudly about him to Neville where the fourth year Slytherins could hear him. Hermione and Daphne would grit their teeth in anger while Draco would come up with a few clever insults.

Meanwhile, Sirius still hadn't written back. It was beginning to worry Harish. He was half afraid that the man had gone and gotten himself caught—he _was_ still a fugitive after all. It was driving Harish insane, not knowing what was going on and not being able to do anything about it.

Then, a few days after that chaos broke out.

The Slytherins and the Gryffindors were outside the dungeons, waiting for their double Potions class to start. Hermione, Daphne, and Draco were leaning up against the wall. Ron and Neville were over by the door, well within earshot.

"And, I mean, he's not even good," Ron was saying. "He's just an overconfident, good for nothing, son of a death eater."

Daphne clenched her teeth, Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron, and Draco muttered, "I am really getting sick of hearing him go on about this."

The others nodded in agreement.

"I tell you, he's going to end up going bad, like all other Slytherins. It would just be better if he died during the tournament. It would save us—" but whatever it would save them from, no one ever found out for at that moment Daphne had heard enough. Not caring that they were surrounded by half their year, she whipped out her wand and pointed it at Ron.

Ron noticed and broke off, pulling out his own wand.

"Confringo!" Daphne cried.

"Densaugeo!" Ron shouted.

Both of their wands emitted jets of light, which collided with each other in midair and ricocheted off in separate directions.

Daphne's narrowly missed Neville's head and tore a chunk out of the wall. Ron's curse hit Hermione. Hermione whimpered in panic and clutched her mouth.

"Hermione!" Daphne and Draco both exclaimed, jumping forward.

They hurried over to see what was wrong with her. Draco dragged her hand away from her mouth and Daphne gasped, moving to shield her friend from sight. Hermione's front teeth—already larger than normal—were now growing at an alarming rate; she was looking more and more like a beaver as her teeth elongated, past her bottom lip, toward her chin—panic stricken, she felt them and let out stricken cry.

"And what is all this noise about?"

Snape had arrived. Everyone was shouting explanations. Snape pointed a long finger at Malfoy and said, "Explain."

"Weasley attacked us, sir—"

"We attacked each other at the same time!" Ron shouted.

"—and he hit Granger—look—"

Snape examined Hermione as she tried to hide her teeth again, but failed as they were now past her chin.

"Hospital Wing, Granger," Snape said calmly.

Hermione nodded her thanks and dashed off.

"Greengrass tore a chunk off the wall—look!" Ron exclaimed.

"Five points from Gryffindor."

While this going on, Harish was sitting in History of Magic. His head was resting on his arms and he was staring out the window, watching the Whomping Willow. The twins were snoring on either side of him. Suddenly the door to the classroom opened to reveal a tiny third year with honey colored hair and a good resemblance to the tiny Dennis Creevey.

Everyone in the room turned to look at the boy and his eyes widened slightly in fear. Professor Binns did not notice anything.

"I-I'm supposed to be fetching Harish Blake," he squeaked nervously.

Binns still didn't notice.

"What for?" Harish asked quietly.

"Mr. Bagman wants all of the champions—" but that was enough for Harish.

He stood, shouldered his bag, and made his way to the door.

"You may go, Blackthorn," Binns said as Harish walked straight out of the classroom without hesitation.

"Isn't it neat, your name coming out of the goblet twice?" the boy asked.

"Uh—sure," Harish replied. The third year was practically bouncing.

"Dean says he knows you. Dean Thomas? Do you know him? He thinks you'll do really well—almost got into a fight with Ron Weasley over it."

Harish finally realized that he had seen this boy before at the mention of Dean. It was Colin Creevey, the boy that turned up in the Hospital Wing, petrified, while Harish and Dean were recovering from a brutal Quidditch match a couple years previous. They came to a stop outside a classroom.

"Good luck!" Colin chirped.

Harish knocked on the door and entered.

The other champions were already in the room, along with Ludo Bagman, a man with a camera, and a blonde witch. Harish recognized her as Rita Skeeter, the _Daily Prophet_ reporter that liked to kick up a fuss everywhere she went.

Bagman leapt to his feet when he spotted Harish and said, "Come on in, the wand weighing ceremony will start in a moment.

"Wand weighing?" Harish asked in curiosity.

"We have to make sure your wands are fully functional before the tournament starts, of course!" Bagman informed him. "The expert's upstairs with Dumbledore as we speak. And there's going to be a little photoshoot. This is Rita Skeeter," he gestured toward her. "She's doing a small piece for the _Daily Prophet…_ "

Harish's lip curled.

"I know," he replied without any emotion.

While they waited on Ollivander, Skeeter did a quick interview on the three of them. Then, Madame Maxime and Karkaroff seated themselves in empty chairs by Ludo Bagman. Finally, Ollivander and Dumbledore arrived.

"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?" Dumbledore asked, gesturing toward the wandmaker and talking to the champions. "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition for the tournament."

Ollivander looked the same as he had six years previous when Harish had gotten his own wand. He had large, ever-knowing, pale eyes that still gave the sixteen-year-old the creeps. The main thing that made him uneasy around the wandmaker was that he had known that his father was Voldemort. He had also informed Harish that his wand was his father's wand's brother. At this thought, Harish looked down at his wand with pride.

Harish emerged from his thoughts to discover that Ollivander was already inspecting Fleur's wand.

"Yes," he was saying quietly. "nine and a half inches…inflexible…rosewood…and containing…dear me…"

"An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela," Fleur finished for him. "One of my grandmuzzer's."

Harish made a mental note to tell the twins that Fleur was indeed a veela as they had suspected.

"Yes," Mr. Ollivander said, "yes, I never use veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands…however, to each his own, and if this suits you…"

Ollivander ran his hand up and down the wand, checking for blemishes; then he muttered, "Orchideous!" and a bunch of flowers burst from the wand-tip.

"Very well, very well, it's in fine working order," Mr. Ollivander said, scooping up the flowers and handing both them and the wand back to Fleur. "Mr. Krum, you next."

Krum slouched forward and thrust his wand into the wandmaker's hands.

"This is a Gregorovitch creation unless I'm much mistaken?" Ollivander asked, receiving a nod. "A fine wandmaker, though the styling is never quite what I…however…"

He lifted the wand and examined it closely, turning it over and over, inches from his face. Harish was sure that he would go cross-eyed soon, but then the wandmaker lowered the wand and glanced at Krum.

"Yes…hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" Krum gave a curt nod again. "Rather thicker than one usually sees…quite rigid…ten and a quarter inches… _Avis_!"

The wand let out a sound much like a cannon and a number of small, twittering birds flew out of the wand and through and open window into the watery sunlight.

"Good," Mr. Ollivander said, handing Krum his wand back. "Which leaves Mr. Blake."

Harish stepped forward and handed his wand over.

"Aaaah, yes, one of my own creations," Ollivander muttered, his pale eyes glinting oddly. "Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember. Do you take good care of it?" He glanced up at Harry before staring at the wand.

"I polished it just last night," Harish said proudly. Sure enough, his wand gleamed from the polishing.

Ollivander hummed and twiddled the wand between his fingers. A fountain of wine shot out of it. He then handed it back to Harish, who stowed it away in his wand holster.

"Thank you all," Dumbledore said, standing up. "You may go back to your lessons—or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as they are about to end—"

Harish, who had sat down on the edge of one of the chairs, jumped up and quickly made his way to the door. Before his hand even reached the doorknob, the portly reporter jumped to his feet and cried, "Photos, Dumbledore! What about the photos?"

The photos took ages. Madame Maxime cast everyone else in shadow wherever she stood, and the photographer couldn't stand far enough back to get her in the picture. Eventually, she had to sit while the others stood around her. Karkaroff kept twirling his goatee around his finger to give it an extra curl. Krum, who Harish thought might have been used to photos, skulked at the back. The photographer was keenest to have Fleur at the front of the group, but Rita Skeeter kept dragging Harish forward. Then, she insisted on separate shots of all three champions. When they were finally finished, Harish went down to dinner. There, he noticed an empty seat.

"Where is Hermione?" he asked.

"Oh, I expect she's still having her teeth fixed," Draco said, unconcernedly.

"Having her teeth fixed?" Fred asked. "What did she do to them?"

"Oh, she didn't do anything," Daphne replied. "It was your brother who did it."

George turned and both the twins were torn between curiousity and annoyance.

"What did he do this time?" Harish asked for them.

Draco told them a vague version of the tale. He purposely left out what exactly Ron said, just hinting that he had been insulting one of them, and he described the very short duel in satisfying detail. When he was done, the trio were applauding an embarrassed Daphne who was pointedly not looking at any of them.

After dinner, they went down to the dungeons. Once there, Harish discovered he had an owl. How it got down into the dungeons was beyond Harish but he wasn't overly worried about that, especially not after he saw that the letter was from Sirius.

 _Dear Harry,_ it read,

 _I can't say everything I would like to in a letter, it's too risky in case the owl is intercepted—we need to talk face to face. Can you ensure that you are alone by the fire in the Slytherin Common Room at one o'clock on the morning on the 22nd of November?_

 _I know better than anyone that you can look after yourself, but please stay alert. I have already mentioned that Dumbledore and Moody suspect that something is afoot. Someone has already had a good try of hurting you by putting your name into that goblet. You guessed correctly when you wrote that they may be trying to kill you._

 _Be on the watch, Harry. I still want to hear about anything unusual. Let me know about the 22nd as soon as you can._

— _Sirius_

* * *

 **T.T.F.N**


	77. Part 6: Chapter 16

**Dis** **claimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Sixteen: Foul Play**

Time seemed to pass annoyingly slow. Harish was never a patient sort of person, so he grew increasingly irritable as it got closer to the 22nd . Rita Skeeter's newspaper came out as well, making him even more angry. The entire article was a whole load of gossip about Harish. The other champions were hardly even mentioned.

Now, being the only one in the paper did not annoy Harish. What _did_ annoy him was Rita Skeeter writing about he and Daphne's relationship. After the article came out, people laughed at him and teased him about it. Harish trudged through the week, ignoring everyone except his own group of friends.

When the Saturday before the first task finally came, Harish was fully ready for an excuse to get out of the castle; there was a Hogsmeade trip. The sixth year set off for the Three Broomsticks and ordered himself a butterbeer. He sulked happily, enjoying being alone. Then, the silence was interrupted as the twins slid into the booth with him.

"If you're done pouting about the article—"

"We have something you might be interested in," they said.

"Unless it's something about the first task or revenge on Rita Skeeter, I do not want to hear it."

"It's about the first task," both twins said.

"Really?" Harish asked loudly. Several people turned and looked at him.

"We'll explain on the way," George said as Fred pulled Harish to his feet.

"On the way where?" Harish asked, slightly concerned.

"You'll see," Fred replied.

Harish groaned and allowed himself to be steered out of the pub.

"Have you got you're cloak?" they asked together.

"Yes," Harish replied, more warily still.

"Put it on," Fred ordered.

Harish pulled it out of his bag and threw it over himself. They returned to the Hogwarts grounds and he followed the twins, heading for the Forbidden Forest.

"Hang on," Harish said. "Are we going into the forest?"

"Yes," George said.

"Lead on," Harish exclaimed.

The twins laughed slightly and they entered the forest, walking along the very edge of it. The three teens walked along the edge of the forest for a while until finally they began heading deeper into the forest. Just as Harish was beginning to wonder if this was some sort of prank, he heard shouting up ahead. The young men went around one last clump of trees that revealed what seemed, at first, to be dozens of fires with men running around them. Then—Harish's mouth fell open.

 _Dragons._

Four fully grown, enourmous, vicious-looking dragons were rearing onto their hind legs inside an enclosure fenced with thick planks of wood, roaring and snorting—torrents of fire were shooting into the sky out of their fanged mouths, fifty feet above the ground on their outstretched necks. One was smooth and green. Another was red with odd spikes around its head, puffing mushroom shaped flames into the air. Finally, the one nearest them was black and looked more lizard like than the others.

At least thirty men were around the dragons—seven or eight to each one—and were pulling tightly on ropes that bound them. Harish watched the fire, mesmerized. He glanced up slightly and saw the eyes of the black dragon, with vertical pupils like a cat's, bulging with either fear or rage. It was making a horrible noise, a yowling, screeching scream.

One of the men saw them and jogged over, stretching his arms out in front of them. It took Harish a moment to recognize him, but after a moment it was hard to miss the flaming red hair and freckled face. It was Charlie Weasley, the twins' brother.

"I'm afraid you can't come any closer," he told them, pushing the twins back slightly. "They can shoot fire at a range of twenty feet! I've seen this Horntail do forty!"

"Horntail?" George asked, craning to peer around his brother's shoulder.

"The black one," Charlie replied, jabbing a finger toward it. "There's also a common Welsh Green, Chinese Fireball, and—"

"That's nice," Fred interrupted. "So how have you been lately?"

"I've been fine. How're Mum and Dad getting along?"

"Well, Dad's enjoying work," George replied.

"Like that's a surprise," Fred muttered.

Charlie let out a laugh.

"Well," Fred said, his hands in his pockets. "It was—"

"Nice seeing you," George finished and they strolled off.

Harish followed.

The moment they got out of the forest, Harish wrenched the cloak off of himself.

"Dragons?" he asked incredulously. " _That's_ the first task?"

The twins nodded.

Harish let out a breath, looking around. It was beginning to grow dark. He and the twins began walking up toward the castle. They went inside and down to the common room. Then the long wait for it to clear out began. By about midnight, the twins fell asleep. Harish sat there in between them until finally Draco went to bed. Then, at one o'clock, the flames turned green and Sirius's head appeared in the fire.

"Sirius—how are you doing?" Harish asked, getting down on his knees in front of the fire.

Sirius's appearance was back to normal as he was no longer needing to act the role or Arata Blake. His face was fuller than it was when he had first escaped Azkaban, but his eyes still had not lost their haunted look.

"Never mind me, how are you doing?" Sirius asked.

"I'm fine," Harish replied.

"Now, let's start at the beginning," Sirius said. "What exactly happened?"

So Harish told him about how he had gotten a seventh year to put his name in for him, how it came out twice, how Moody hinted that someone might be trying to do him in, that all his friends agreed, and then finally about Rita Skeeter's article and the dragons.

Sirius looked at him in concern. He had let Harish talk into silence without interruptions. Then, he said, "Dragons we can deal with, Harry, but we'll get to that in a minute. Your father has allowed me to tell you that he is fairly certain that you passing out at the match was indeed an attack on your person."

"But why—"

"It is hard to keep a secret like your father's identity hidden. We think someone found out and is trying to get to him through you. We had already theorized this before school started, but your name coming out of the goblet twice sealed the deal."

"So you agree with us as well, then?" Harish queried.

"Of course, but listen—if your name was put in by someone else as well as you, that means that whoever the attacker is, they had to have had access to the goblet. This means that the rat is in the castle. I cannot stress how important it is to your father that you take care. You need to keep your eyes and ears peeled for anything. We need to get to the bottom of this. I've been reading the _Daily Prophet_ —"

Harish groaned.

"And I saw about Moody being attacked right before school started back. I don't think that attack was faked—someone did not want an ex-auror coming to school this year."

"But what about the dragons?" Harish asked impatiently.

"I will just tell you this—play to your strengths. You are a bright kid; I am sure you'll come up with something good."

Harish forced a smile.

"Thanks," he said.

"Now," Sirius said. "I have got to go. Owl me if you need anything."

Harish nodded and Sirius's head disappeared with a pop. The teen let out a sigh and leaned against the couch behind him. Why did his life have to be so complicated?

* * *

 **TTFN**


	78. Part 6: Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Seventeen: Of Dragons and Firebolts**

Harish told the others about what Harish had said to him. He talked with the twins about the assassination attempts and he talked with Hermione and Daphne about the first task. It was slightly annoying to him. Talking to Hermione was like talking to a brick wall, or he at least got as much inspiration from her as he would a wall. One example was a conversation they held two days after he had spoken with Sirius.

"So what did Sirius tell you about the first task?" Hermione asked.

"Play to my strengths," Harish grumbled. "But I don't know how that would help me."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Honestly," she said. "You can be so thick. What are you really good at?"

"I dunno," Harish complained. "That's why the advice is no use."

But Daphne's response was really different.

"Play to your strengths?" she asked. "Well, you are amazing at Quidditch."

Harish, who had been thumping his head on the table bolted upright and exclaimed, "Daphne, you are a gem! How could I have not thought of that?"

Daphne beamed.

"Well two heads _are_ better than one," she supplied modestly.

So that night he and the twins plotted about how they were going to defeat the dragon by flying.

"So, all you need—"

"Is your broom," they said.

"But we aren't allowed anything but our wands," Harish said.

The twins cracked two identical smiles.

"Exactly."

So the morning of the first task arrived with Harish feeling prepared and—slightly nervous. The atmosphere was thick with excitement. Lessons were to stop midday, giving all of the students time to get down to the dragons' enclosure—though of course, no one but Harish and no doubt the other champions (for Harish was sure Maxime and Karkaroff would do anything to get one on Dumbledore, and he didn't blame them) knew what they would find there.

Everyone was either wishing him good luck or hissing, "I'll have a stretcher ready."

Harish rolled his eyes, their jabs not bothering him a bit. Nonetheless, the twins still aimed their "body-guard glares" in every direction. Harish trudged through all of his classes, mentally planning out what to do in his head. He did not pay attention in the slightest in any of his classes.

The next thing he knew he was sitting down at lunch, picking through his food. The whole thing was slightly more nerve-wracking that Quidditch (though the young man would never admit he was nervous). Then, Professor McGonagall was hurrying toward him. Everyone was watching.

"Blake, the champions have to come down now," she said. "You must get ready for your first task."

"Yes Ma'am," he replied, standing up instantly. His fork fell to his plate with a clatter.

"Good luck, Harish," Daphne said quietly.

"You'll be fine," Hermione whispered, though it was unclear whether she was trying to reassure Harish or herself.

"You got this!" the twins exclaimed, before Harish followed McGonagall out of the Great Hall.

He was led out onto the grounds in silence until a tent was visible around a clump of trees.

"You're to go in there with the other champions," McGonagall instructed him. "And wait your turn, Blake. Mr. Bagman is in there. He will be telling you the procedure—Good luck."

And she strode away. Harish suspected that the woman was not very happy with having him as the Hogwarts champion. The teen shrugged before entering the tent.

Fleur Delacour was sitting in a corner on a low stool. She did not look her usual composed self, but pale and clammy. Viktor Krum looked even surlier than usual, which Harish supposed was his way of showing nerves. And Harish himself did not betray any of his nervousness other than the fact that his eyes were wider than normal.

Bagman turned and spotted Harish.

"Blake!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "Good-o!"

Harish noticed that the man was wearing his old Quidditch robes again—the Wimbourne Wasps. They were slightly stretched as he seemed to have gained a few pounds since his youth.

"Well, now we're a;; here—time to fill you in!" he exclaimed brightly. "When the audience has assembled, I'm going to offering each of you this bag"—he held up a sack of purple silk and shook it at them—"from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different—er—varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too…ah, yes…your task is to collect the golden egg!"

Harish nodded and leaned against the wall. The other two did not react at all. Fleur simply looked down at the ground again and began rocking in her seat while Krum looked surly as ever.

In no time at all, hundreds of feet could be heard passing the tent, their owners talking excitedly, laughing, joking…Harish felt very separate from them as he anticipated which dragon he would receive. He went over the plan once more in his head before the tent flap opened and Bagman walked over, opening the neck of the silk bag.

"Ladies first," he said, offering it to Fleur.

She put a shaking hand inside the bag and drew out a tiny perfect model of a dragon—a Welsh Green. It had a number two around its neck. Fleur showed no surprise, but a determined resignation. When Krum pulled out a model of the Chinese Fireball with a number one on it, he had just blinked, sat down, and stared at the ground. This confirmed Harish's suspicions that the other champions would find out about the dragons before the task.

Knowing what was left, Harish gritted his teeth stuck his hand into the bag. He pulled out the model of the Hungarian Horntail. It had the number three around its neck and was spewing fire into the air.

"Well there you are!" Bagman exclaimed. "You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to compete, do you see? Now I'm going to have to leave you in a moment, because I'm commentating. Mr. Krum, you're first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle all right?"

And with that he left. Minutes later, a whistle sounded and Krum left the tent. Harish and Fleur shared a glance for just a moment before Fleur stood up and began pacing. Harish leaned against the wall of the tent once again and listened to the commentation of how Krum was doing.

"Very daring!" Bagman was shouting. Harish could hear the Chinese Fireball emit a horrible, roaring shriek, while the crowd drew a collective breath. "That's some nerve he's got there—and—yes, he's got the egg!"

"And now the marks from the judges!"

He didn't shout the marks, which annoyed Harish slightly. He would have liked to know how the others did before he went on. Still, he supposed the judges must have been holding the scores up and showing them to the crowd.

"One down, two to go!" Bagman yelled as the whistle blew again. "Miss Delacour, if please!"

Fleur was trembling from head to foot as she exited the tent. But, she still held her head high and her hand aloft. Then, the process started all over again as Harish found himself alone in the tent….

"Oh I'm not sure that was wise!" they could hear him shouting gleefully. "Oh…nearly! Careful now…good lord, I thought she'd had it then!"

Ten minutes later, Harish heard the crowd erupt into applause once more…Fleur must have been successful too. A pause, while her marks were being shown…more clapping…then, for the third time, the whistle blew.

Harish walked to the entrance of the tent, now beginning to feel slightly sick. The young man shook his head and forced himself to look confident. He walked past the trees through a gap in the enclosure fence.

And there was the Horntail, at the other end of the enclosure crouched low over her clutch of eggs, her wings half-furled, her evil, yellow eyes upon him. The crowd was making a great deal of noise, but Harish paid them no attention. It was just him and the Horntail at that moment, just as it had been two years ago in the Chamber of Secrets when he had been facing the Basilisk. The only thing was, he did not have that certainty that he had had then that the creature would not harm him.

Then, he slowly raised his wand.

" _Accio Firebolt!_ " he shouted.

Harish waited, knowing that the broom would reach him. And then he heard it speeding through the air behind him. He turned and saw his Firebolt hurtling toward him around the edge of the woods, soaring into the enclosure, and stopping dead in the air beside him, waiting for him to mount. The crowd was making even more noise…Bagman was shouting something…but Harish's ears were not working properly anymore…listening was not important…

He swung his leg over the broom and kicked off from the ground. A second later, something miraculous happened. As he soared upward, the wind rushed through his hair, and the Horntail shrank to the size of a dog, he realized that the dragon was nothing more than a big ugly Quidditch team that he had to get past to reach the golden egg.

At that thought, he looked down at the clutch of eggs and spotted the prize egg gleaming against its cement colored fellows, residing safely between the dragon's front legs.

"Okay," Harish told himself, "diversionary tactics…let's go…"

He dove. The Horntail's head followed him; he knew what it was going to do and pulled out of the dove just in time; a jet of fire had been released exactly when he would have been had he not swerved away…but Harish did not care…that was no more than dodging a Bludger…

"Great Scott, he can fly," Bagman shouted as the crowd shrieked and gasped. "Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?"

Harish found himself grinning widely as he soared higher in a circle. The Horntail was still following his progress, its head revolving on its long neck—it he kept this up, it would be nice and dizzy—but better not push it too long, or it would be breathing fire again—

Harish plummeted just as the Horntail opened its mouth, but this time as he avoided the flames, the dragon's spiky tail came up to meet him in the shoulder, ripping his robes—

He could feel it stinging as the crowd screamed and groaned, but the cut did not seem too deep…Now he zoomed around the back of the Horntail and a possibility occurred to him…

The Horntail did not seem to want to take off, she was too protective of her eggs. Though she writhed and twisted, furling and unfurling her wings and keeping those yellow eyes on the teen, she was too afraid to move too far from them…but he had to persuade her to do it, or he would never bet near them…the trick was to do it carefully, gradually.

He began to fly, first this way, then the other, not near enough to make her breathe fire, but still posing a sufficient threat to unsure she kept her eyes on him. Her head swayed this way and that, watching him out of those vertical pupils, her fangs bared…

He flew higher. The Horntail's head rose with him, her neck now stretched to its fullest extent, still swaying like a snake before its charmer…

Harish rose a few feet more and she let out a roar of exasperation. He was like a fly to her, a fly she was longing to swat; her tail thrashed again, but he was too high to reach now…She shot fire into the air, which he dodged…Her jaws opened wide…

"Come on," Harish hissed, swerving tantalizing above her, "come on and get me…up you get now…"

And then she reared. Spreading her great, black, leathery wings at last—and Harish dove. Before the dragon knew what he had done, or where he had disappeared tom he was speeding toward the ground as fast as he could go, toward the eggs that were now unprotected by her clawed front legs—he had seized the golden egg—And with a huge spurt of speed he was off, soaring over the stands, the heavy egg safely under his uninjured arm, and it was as though someone had turned the volume back up—for the first time he became aware of the noise of the crowd, which was screaming and applauding as loudly as the Irish supporters at the World Cup—

"Look at that!" Bagman was yelling. "Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is the quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Blake!"

The Horntail was subdued and Harish waited for his scores, which were sent up moments later—An eight out of ten from Madame Maxime, nine out of ten from Dumbledore, full marks from Bagman, and a four from Karkaroff. When he saw this, Harish narrowed his eyes and scrutinized the man. Was he marking down because he was from a different school, or was it because the man knew who his father was?

Harish wasn't given much time to ponder this as McGonagall strode over and forced him to go to the Healer's tent. Harish couldn't help but grin. He would face Madam Pomfrey's wrath any day if it meant winning first place at the first task.

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	79. Part 6: Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Chapter Eighteen: Unforeseen Trouble—That's What Girls Are**

After he was allowed to return to the castle, Harish met up with Hermione, Ginny, Daphne, and Draco. They informed him of how the others did, mentioning that Krum had points deducted because his dragon smashed all of the real eggs, and that Fleur's skirt had caught on fire. While they talked, Harish lead them up to the Owlry and he sent a letter to both Sirius and his father using school owls.

Then, Hermione said, "We should probably go on down to the common room for your party."

"Party?" Harish asked.

Hermione nodded.

"I expect the twins should be back from the kitchens by now."

Sure enough, when they entered the Slytherin Common Room, it exploded with cheers and yells again. There were mountains of cakes and flagons of pumpkin juice and butterbeer on every surface; the twins had also set off some Filibuster's Fireworks, so that the air was thick with stars and sparks. The twins ambushed their friend and dragged him into the common room, congratulating him all the while. Then, they all dug into the cakes.

"Merlin, this is heavy," Draco said, picking up the golden egg Harish had left on the table. "Open it, Harish, go on! What is inside it?"

"He's supposed to work the clue out on his own," Hermione said swiftly. "It's in the tournament rules…"

"Oh, come on, Hermione," Ginny said. "I'm sure it will be fine if we just _see_ it. We won't necessarily be _helping_ him."

Draco passed the egg to Harish, who dug his fingernails into the groove that ran all the way around it and pried it open.

It was hollow and completely empty—but the moment Harish opened it, the most horrible screaming wail filled the room. The teen had never heard anything like it in all of his sixteen years.

"Shut it!" Fred bellowed, his hands over his ears.

Harish slammed it shut.

"What was that?" Astoria asked, repugnance on her face.

"Sounded like a banshee," Draco said. "Maybe you've got to get past one of those next."

"I thought it sounded rather like Percy singing," George said. "Maybe you've got to attack him while he's in the shower."

"Want a jam tart, Hermione?" Fred asked.

Hermione looked doubtfully at the plate he was offering her. Fred grinned.

"It's all right," he said. "I haven't done anything to them. It's the custard creams you've got to watch—"

Ginny, who had just bitten into a custard cream, choked and spat it out. Fred laughed.

"Just my little joke, Ginny…"

Hermione took a jam tart.

"So you got all of this from the kitchens?" she asked.

"Well," Fred said, rubbing the back of his head. "Not exactly…The butterbeers…"

Hermione fixed him with a look and Fred finished, "We got the Butterbeers from Hogsmeade."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Fred was spared as Ginny turned into a large canary.

"Oh—sorry, sis!" Fred shouted over all of the laughter. "I forgot—it _was_ the custard creams we hexed!"

Within a minute, Ginny had molted and once all of her feathers had fallen off, she reappeared looking entirely normal. She even joined in on the laughing.

"Canary Creams!" Fred shouted to the crowd. "Harish, George, and I invented them—seven Sickles each, a bargain!"

It was nearly one in the morning when Harish and the twins finally went down to the dormitory. Harish set his little model of the Hungarian Horntail on his side table and it curled up with a little yawn. Then, the teen drifted off to sleep with dreams of talking dragons that kept turning into enourmous canaries.

The start of December brought wind and sleet to Hogwarts. Drafty though the castle always was in the winter, Harish was glad of its fires and thick walls every time he passed the Durmstrang ship on the lake, which was pitching in the high winds, its black sails billowing against the dark skies. He thought the Beauxbatons caravan was likely to be pretty chilly too.

Another thing about December was the fact that it meant that the holidays were drawing nearer. There was a lot of discuss about gifts and about the Yule Ball. Professor Snape had held them back after Potions class one day and had explained that the Yule Ball was a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament.

"The Yule Ball is approaching," Snape said. "It is a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign students. The ball will be open to fourth years and above—although you may invite a younger student if you wish—" several girls giggled and looked pointedly at Harish. Snape didn't seem to notice but continued, "Dress robes will be worn and the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now, the ball is for your enjoyment, but that does _not_ mean that we will be relaxing the standards of behavior we expect from our students—I will be seriously displeased if a Slytherin embarrasses the school in any way, and you will be facing suspension if you do. You are dismissed, except for Blake."

Everyone rushed out of the room and the twins spared Harish a sympathetic glance. Harish stood and looked at Snape, who seemed to be waiting for the room to empty. Once everyone else had gone, Snape said, "Blake, the champions and their partners—"

"What partners?" Harish asked.

Snape regarded the teen suspiciously, as though he suspected that Harish was trying to be funny.

"Your partners for the Yule Ball, Mr. Blake," he said coldly. "Your _dance partners_."

"Oh," Harish said, swallowing. "Those partners."

He hated dancing. And anything social, for that matter. As the Dark Lord's heir, he had always been expected to entertain others and he hated that. But, since this wasn't a party filled with Death Eaters and their children, things may be different.

"Traditionally," Snape said, interrupting the sixteen-year-old's thoughts, "the champions and their partners open the ball."

So Harish was stuck having to find a partner for the ball, as he _had_ to go. That wasn't all _that_ bad, Harish thought as he watched Daphne at lunch. The only problem was asking her.

After Snape had told them all about the ball, it was all anyone talked about; what they were going to wear, who they were going to ask, or who they wanted to ask them.

While Harish was trying to figure out how to ask Daphne, her little sister, Astoria, was waiting for her betrothed to ask _her_ to the ball. She finally got impatient after it had been a week and she still had no results. That, unfortunately, wasn't very good for Draco.

When the girl had finally cornered him, he was standing in the courtyard talking to Ginny and Hermione. Harish was sitting against a tree a few feet away, reading, and the twins were off doing who knows what. Astoria walked up to Draco and tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

"Yes?" Draco asked, glancing at her over his shoulder.

"Is there anything you would like to ask me?" she asked.

It seemed that everyone _except_ Draco knew the first year was hinting at the Yule Ball. Ginny was looking particularly sour.

"Uh…no?" Draco replied.

Astoria burst into tears and dashed off. If it was possible, Draco looked even more confused and concerned. Everyone else watched with amusement.

But still no one had a date until Saturday—nearly a week later. Harish was sitting in the common room reading a book on the Dark Arts that he had disguised as a Transfiguration book. Daphne was sitting on the couch beside him, working on her Charms homework. Draco was trying to get Harish's model of a dragon to set fire to a piece of paper, and Ginny was dozing in an armchair.

After a few minutes, Daphne snapped her book shut and walked over to Ginny's armchair muttering, "Can't sleep there all night…" And she woke the younger girl up, steering her into the dormitory. The room became silent once more as they were the only ones in the common room. Most everyone was outside in the courtyards talking about the ball. Harish vaguely wondered if they were going to do that until curfew.

Then, the silence was broken as Fred walked into the common room.

"Well," he said. "Just did it."

"Did what?" Harish asked, looking up from his book.

"Got a date for the ball, of course," Fred replied.

"Who?" Harish and Draco asked at the same time.

"Hermione," Fred replied, a deep flush creeping up his neck.

"Really?" Draco asked. "What, did you ask her out in the _library_?"

"As a matter of fact, I did," Fred replied, sticking his nose in the air.

"Well, I think you did good, mate," Harish said, patting Fred on the arm as he walked past.

"Mhm," Fred hummed skeptically. He went down to the dormitory with a wide smile on his face.

Once he was out of earshot, Harish and Draco turned to each other.

"We'll both have partners by the end of tomorrow," Harish said. "Deal?"

"Deal," Draco replied.

So, the next morning Harish approached Daphne at breakfast. Draco was sitting to her left and Hermione was sitting in between Daphne and Ginny.

"Would you uh—" Harish started as he sat down across from her. He paused as everyone nearby turned to watch. His cheeks flushed.

"Don't you all have your own conversations?" Daphne snapped. They all turned back to their food. "Yes, Harish? What were you going to tell me?"

"Well—I was wondering if you would like to go to the Yule Ball with me?"

"Oh, sure!" Daphne exclaimed happily. "I would be glad to!"

Harish nodded and began piling eggs onto his plate. That wasn't as bad as he had suspected. Draco looked annoyed that Harish had beat him to asking someone out. Fred sat down next to Harish a moment later and whispered, "Good job, mate."

The teen nodded before asking, "Where's George?"

"See for yourself," the Weasley replied, nodding toward the Gryffindor table.

Harish peered around Daphne to see George talking to Angelina Johnson. Both of them were smiling.

"Is he asking her to the ball?" he queried.

Fred nodded, cutting his pancake in half. Just then a rustling was heard overhead as the mail was delivered. An owl swooped down and landed in front of Harish. He took the letter off and saw that there was a paw print on it.

"Who's it from?" Fred asked.

Harish looked down the table before whispering, "Sirius."

Fred nodded knowingly. Harish looked up to see the others staring at him.

"I'll tell you later," he said. They nodded.

George then sat down on Harish's other side, grinning widely.

"What's for breakfast? I'm starving!"

After breakfast, they all headed back to the common room. Then, they all sat down in front of the fire. Harish pulled out his book once more and Draco sat next to him, fidgeting.

"What is the matter with you?" he finally snapped.

"Nothing," Draco replied, who was in fact mentally planning how he was going to ask a girl. Then, after a minute of silence he stood and walked over to Ginny. "Ginny?" he asked.

"Yes?" she asked, looking up at him.

"I was uh—wondering—well…I wanted to know…uh…"

"Yes?" Ginny prompted.

Draco tugged at his collar. _"My father will_ _ **kill**_ _me if he hears of this!_ " he thought. Harish watched with amusement, thinking the exact same thing.

"Yes?" Ginny asked again.

"Doyouwannagoballwimme?" Draco asked in one breath. Then, he winced.

" _What?"_ Ginny asked.

"Do you want to go to the ball with me?" Draco repeated, much slower. He was now as red as Ginny's hair.

"Oh!" Ginny exclaimed, looking surprised. "Well…sure! I would love to!"

"Are you sure?" Draco asked. "'Cause if you don't want…I've been such a prat…"

Harish practically face-palmed.

"No really," Ginny said, blushing. "I would love to."

Draco looked immensely relieved. Then, he leaned over to Harish.

"My father _cannot_ hear about this," he said.

"Or my mother," Ginny said, eyeing the twins. "She would have a right fit."

The twins looked insulted.

"You think _we_ would do that to you?" Fred asked indignantly.

"We've had enough trouble with her alone," George added.

They both shook their heads and said, " _Honestly_ …"

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	80. Part 6: Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...**

* * *

 **Chapter Nineteen: The Mysterious Pixie**

Harish finally opened the letter form Sirius once they were in the privacy of the dormitory. It read:

 _Dear Harry,_

 _Congratulations on getting past the Horntail. Whoever put your name in that goblet shouldn't be feeling too happy now! I am impressed with the way you devised to get past it. Using your Firebolt? I never would have thought of that!_

 _Don't get complacent, though, Harry. You've only done one task. Whoever put you in for the tournament has plenty of time to kill you. Keep your eyes open—particularly when the person we discussed is around—and concentrate on keeping yourself out of trouble._

 _Keep in touch, I still want to hear about anything unusual._

 _-Sirius_

 _P.S. If you want to talk more, meet me in our usual way next Saturday night._

The next day, Harish told the others about the letter he received from Sirius. Hermione agreed with the man, saying that it was very possible that there might be another murder attempt before the year was out. This worried Daphne, though she did not say anything. The twins, however, thought that Harish would be able to manage anything that was thrown at him.

Harish himself did not exactly know what to think. It was much like when Sirius had first escaped Azkaban: when they had no idea that he was innocent. Harish had not been very afraid that the man was coming to the castle, even though he had known he should be. It was much like that now. Except this time, Harish did not know who the culprit was, only that they were already in the castle.

Still, the last week of the term passed by very quickly, and Harish found himself looking forward to seeing his godfather. When Saturday finally arrived, Harish waited impatiently or the common room to clear out. Then, Sirius's head appeared five minutes after the last person had left.

"Sirius!" Harish exclaimed.

"Harry, how are you?" Sirius asked

"Good," Harish replied. And he began talking. In his letter, he had vaguely told Sirius how he had gotten past the dragon, but had focused more on the scores he had received. Now, he gave Sirius a blow by blow account of what exactly happened. Sirius looked impressed that Harish had gotten off with only one scratch. Then, Harish had proceeded on telling his godfather about the Yule Ball.

"So who'd you ask?" Sirius questioned the teen.

"Daphne Greengrass," he supplied.

"Really?" Sirius asked. "Is she pretty?"

Harish rolled his eyes.

"Yes," he answered. "And smart."

"Are you happy?" Sirius asked.

"Not as happy as Draco," Harish said, before covering his mouth at his slip up.

"What? Malfoy's kid? Who did he ask?"

"No one," Harish backtracked.

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

"Fine," Harish huffed. "But you can't tell anyone. Draco would kill me…He is taking Ginny Weasley."

Sirius's head began laughing almost hysterically.

"A Malfoy and a Weasley?" he asked. "I would pay to see that!"

"Exactly why you can't tell anyone!" Harish said. "Ginny would be grounded for life if her mother knew, and if Uncle Lucius found out…Well, I don't doubt that he would disown Draco."

"Nor do I!" Sirius said, laughing still.

"This is serious!" Harish exclaimed, but that only seemed to make the man laugh harder. The teen rolled his eyes.

"Well," Sirius said, wiping his eyes. "I need to go. Make sure you take care. Your father wants me to tell you that he would be willing on helping you with the second task."

"Thanks," Harish replied, and Sirius's head disappeared with a pop.

The next day Voldemort received a fire-call from Sirius. He had been sitting at his desk in his study, a fire crackling merrily in the fireplace. Voldemort dipped his quill in an ink well an began writing a letter to Yaxley. Over the years, the Dark Lord had been trying his best to slowly overtake the Ministry of Magic. It was slow work, depending mostly on his having at least one follower in every department.

And, as Voldemort was being forced to fast forward his plans, he was slowly rebuilding the connection to the Dark Mark of the rest of his followers. He had only contacted his most devoted followers during Harish's first few years at Hogwarts. Now, as he thought he might start an open war again, he was contacting the rest. The Dark Lord figured that his son would be ready for the war, now that he was almost seventeen and had his OWL's.

Suddenly, the fireplace flared green and Sirius's head appeared in it.

"What do you want?" Voldemort asked, without bothering to glance up from the letter he was writing.

"I can't just speak with you about Harry when I want to?" Sirius questioned in returned.

Voldemort glanced up and lifted an eyebrow at the dog animagus.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Sirius said. "You're the Dark Lord. Blah, blah, blah."

"Exactly," Voldemort said, looking back down at his parchment. "And his name is Harish. Not _Harry_."

"He told me I could call him that," Sirius protested.

A vein ticked in the Dark Lord's forehead.

"What do you _want_?" Voldemort finally repeated.

"Harish found a date to the ball," Sirius replied, waiting eagerly for a response. He was sorely disappointed. "Daphne Greengrass."

Voldemort was inwardly pleased, although he did not say anything. He did not show any emotion on his face either. Instead, he said, "That's good."

"Draco found a date as well," Sirius continued after a pause. "Apparently both he and Miss Ginny Weasley have developed a liking toward each other."

Voldemort's eyes snapped to Sirius.

"You are joking," the man said slowly.

"Nope!" Sirius said gleefully, popping his p. "You can ask _Harry_ , if you deem it necessary."

Voldemort hardly noticed that the man was still calling his son "Harry". His thoughts were racing a mile an hour at the possibilities this brought. For starters, Voldemort knew for sure he would have an alliance in the Weasley girl.

He quickly entered Sirius's mind to confirm that the animagus was telling the truth. Then, he stood, turned, and said.

"If what you say is true, I am sure we can welcome the girl into our arms. I could see to it that her status as a bloodtraitor is resolved."

Sirius nodded and the green flames dispersed as his head disappeared with a pop. Then, Voldemort smiled a rather twisted smile. He grabbed some floo powder of his own and threw it into the flames.

"Lucius," he called out.

Lucius appeared seconds later.

"Yes, my lord?" the blonde asked.

"You will never believe what a little pixie informed me of, just now."

"Oh?" Lucius asked, raising an aristocratic eyebrow.

"Your son has apparently invited Miss Ginny Weasley to the Yule Ball," Voldemort replied.

" _WHAT?!"_

* * *

 **Betcha you weren't expecting that (and neither was Lucius)! Don't forget to R &R!  
~TTFN**


	81. Part 6: Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: I do not own the ENTIRE series of Harry Potter...at all...**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty: The Yule Ball**

Fortunately for both Draco and Ginny, neither of them received any Howlers. Harish had simply assumed that it was because Sirius did not tell anyone about the two of them. But, the real reason was, of course, Voldemort. Although the Dark Lord would have found it amusing if Draco had been disowned, he really wanted to keep the boy as an ally. If Harish's friend was disowned, there was a possibility that Harish would find it unfair and they all join the Light side.

Because Voldemort could _not_ let this happen, he managed to calm his most trusted follower down and convince him that Draco did _not_ need disowning. After several calming draughts, a cup of tea, and a promise from Voldemort that the girl and her twin brothers would be absolved of their blood traitor status, Lucius finally decided that he did not have to send his son a Howler either. For if everyone knew about the two, Molly and Arthur would surely find out and the girl might be kept from going to the ball. If that happened, then the girl would never be given the excuse to properly join Voldemort.

Or at least, that was the reason Voldemort told himself to justify his actions. He would never admit that it was simply because Harish would get angry and throw a tantrum, and Voldemort hated it when his son was upset.

So, they all reached Christmas without a hitch.

Everyone remained in the castle once the holidays started. On Christmas Eve, Harish and his friends all stayed up rather late, sitting in front of the fire and roasting marshmallows the twins brought up from the kitchens. On Christmas morning, Harish blinked his eyes awake to find a face inches from his own.

"Argh!" Harish cried, jumping and falling off his bed.

"Master?" Dobby squeaked. He ran over and saw the teen on the floor. Then, he promptly began banging his head on Harish's bedside cabinet.

"Harish?"

"Are you all right?"

Within seconds, the twins were standing over Harish and helping him up, saying. "We thought you were being attacked, mate."

"Gave us a right scare…"

Harish turned and realized Dobby was still throwing himself against the bedside cabinet. The teen rushed forward and pulled the insane elf off of the cabinet.

"Dobby, stop!" Harish exclaimed.

Dobby stopped an mumbled, "Dobby had to punish hisself, sir. Dobby made young Master Harish hurt hisself."

"What are you doing here, Dobby?" Harish asked.

"Dobby came to bring Master Harish his presents, sir."

" _Why_ were you in my face?"

"Dobby was deciding whether he should wake Young Master, or not."

"Well," Harish said after a second. "I am awake."

"Dobby left you's presents there," the elf replied, pointing to the foot of his master's bed.

"Very well," Harish said. "You are dismissed."

Dobby nodded and disappeared with pop. Harish shook his head and turned to the presents. The gift that Dobby brought turned out to be a book from his father titled, _Magical Water Plants of the Highland Lochs._ Inside the front cover was a note that read: _I thought that you might need this in the near future._

Harish looked at it in confusion, before flipping through it and setting it aside. Then, he went through all of the other packages that were sitting at the foot of his bed. In all, he received a book from Hermione called _Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland_ , a bulging bag of dyed Dungbombs from Fred, a fanged Frisbee from George, a handy penknife from Sirius that was supposed to open any lock, and the usual hand-knitted sweater from Mrs. Weasley.

Harish and the twins met up with the others in the common room and went down to breakfast together. Then, they spent most of the morning in the dungeons, where everyone was enjoying their presents. They returned to the Great Hall for a magnificent lunch, which included at least a hundred turkeys and Christmas puddings, and large piles of Cribbage's Wizarding Crackers.

They went out onto the grounds in the afternoon; the snow was untouched except for the deep channels made by the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students on their way up to the castle. Hermione, Daphne, and Draco decided to watch while Harish and the three Weasleys engaged in a snowball fight. At one point, Draco was finally dragged into the fray when Harish hit him with a rather soggy snowball at the back of his head. At five o'clock, the three girls all returned to their dorms to get ready for the ball.

The others finally abandoned their fight at seven o'clock, when it had become hard to aim properly. The trooped back to the common room, casting multiple warming and drying charms. The four boys then changed into their dress robes. The twins had matching deep blue robes and Draco had black robes that had a high collar, which made the boy look like a vicar.

The common room looked strange, full of people wearing different colors instead of the usual mass of black. Daphne, Hermione, and Ginny were waiting for the boys at the tops of the stairs. George had already agreed to meet Angelina in the Entrance Hall. Daphne was wearing robes of a very pale green. Her plain hair was loose, and she had done something to it that made it curl slightly, falling over her shoulders in gentle waves.

"You look lovely," Harish said as he walked up to her, offering her an arm.

"Thank you," Daphne said, beaming.

Hermione looked lovely as well. In fact, she looked nothing like her normal self. She had done something to her normally bushy hair. It was now sleek and shiny, drawn up into an elegant knot at the top of her head. She was wearing robes made of a floaty, periwinkle-blue material, and she was holding herself differently, somehow—or perhaps it was merely the absence of the twenty or so books she usually had slung over her shoulder. She was also smiling and Harish thought that there was something different about that smile…

The teen smirked as Fred gaped at Hermione, adoration reflecting in his blue eyes.

"Hermione," he said. "You look…" he made gestures toward her mouth, but then decided not to say anything. Instead he finished by saying, "Astounding."

Hermione smiled even wider, and Harish realized that her teeth were smaller and straighter. He had no idea how he noticed it before. As Fred led Hermione out of the common room, Harish followed with Daphne. Behind the two of them were Draco and Ginny, and George brought up the rear. Harish glanced back with a smirk to see Astoria watching them glumly, sitting on a couch. Then, he exited.

When they arrived in the Entrance Hall, they found Angelina waiting on them. George walked over to her. Fred and Hermione followed. Draco stood awkwardly in between Harish and Ginny, tugging on the collar of his robes.

Then, Professor McGonagall's voice called, "Champions over here, please!"

"See you later," Harish muttered to Draco.

The younger boy nodded, looking pale. Harish shook his head, knowing that Draco knew that soon everyone would know that he loved Ginny. Then, he led Daphne over to McGonagall, who was wearing dress robes of red tartan. She told them to wait outside the doors while everyone else went inside; they were to enter the Great Hall in procession when the rest of the students had sat down.

Fleur Delacour and her date, Roger Davies, stationed themselves nearest the doors; Davies looked so stunned by his good fortune in having Fleur for a partner that he could hardly take his eyes off her. Krum and his date stood near Harish and Daphne. Harish did not know who the girl was, but he guessed that she was from Beauxbatons.

Once everyone else was settled in the Hall, Professor McGonagall told the champions and their partners to get in line in pairs and to follow her. They did so, and everyone in the Great Hall applauded as they entered and started walking up toward a large round table at the top of the Hall, where the judges were sitting.

The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished and were replaced by about a hundred smaller, rounder, lantern-lit ones. Each seated about a dozen people.

Harish caught sight of his friends sitting at one table together. To his delight, Ron was only a few tables away half-gaping, half-glaring at Ginny. Beside Ron was Neville, who was sitting in between the red-head and a small blonde girl with large eyes. She wore a pale blue robes and was gazing around the Hall with a wide-eyed stare. If Harish had to guess, he would figure that she was in the same year as Ginny.

Dumbledore smiled happily as the champions approached the top table and Harish had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Karkaroff wore an expression of unhappiness, but Bagman was as jovial as ever, waving merrily to them. He was wearing robes of bright purple with large yellow stars. Madame Maxime was wearing a flowing gown of lavender silk and was applauding them politely. After a moment of scanning the judges table for a second time, Harish realized that Barty Crouch was not there. The fifth seat at the table was occupied by Percy Weasley.

When the champions and their partners reached the table, Percy drew out the empty chair beside him, staring pointedly at Harish. Harish, taking the hint, sat in the seat after pulling a chair out for Daphne. Then, he seated himself in between his partner and his friends' older brother. Although Harish would have much rather sat with the twins, he knew he would at least manage to talk civilly with the Weasley boy. Although he was one of the ones that had kicked up a fuss about the twins being placed in Slytherin, he wasn't all that bad to speak to. Besides, no matter how self-absorbed Percy was, it would be nowhere near as bad as would have been if Harish had been forced to sit beside Dumbledore.

"I've been promoted," Percy said before Harish could open his mouth. "I'm now Mr. Crouch's personal assistant, and I'm here representing him."

"Why did he not come?" Another reason that it was good to sit next to Percy, was that it would be a good chance to hear about the inner workings of the Ministry. Having been raised by a Dark Lord, Harish naturally realized opportunities like these, and frankly, the Gryffindor would not even realize he was blabbing all of the Ministry's secrets away until Harish mentioned that fact.

"I'm afraid to say Mr. Crouch is ill. He hasn't been right since the World Cup. Hardly surprising—over-worked. He's not as young as he once was—though he's still quite brilliant, of course, the mind remains as great as it ever was. But the World Cup was a fiasco for the whole Ministry, and then, Mr. Crouch suffered a huge personal shock with the misbehavior of that house-elf of his. Naturally he dismissed her immediately afterward, but—well as I say, he's getting on, he needs looking after, and I think he's found a definite drop in his home comforts since she left. And then we had the tournament to arrange, and the aftermath of the Cup to deal with—that revolting Skeeter woman buzzing around—no, poor man, he's having a well-earned, quiet Christmas. Im just glad he knew he had someone he could rely upon to take his place."

There was no food yet on the golden plates, but small menus were lying in front of each of them. Harish picked his up and read through it. Everyone at the table were looking surreptitiously around, not sure how they were supposed to order. Dumbledore, however, looked carefully down at his own menu, then said very clearly to his plate, "Pork chops!"

And pork chops appeared. Getting the idea, the rest of the table placed their orders with their plates too. Harish glanced around observing the other people sitting at his table. The Beauxbatons girl was speaking with Krum, who Harish realized he had never heard speak much before. He was certainly speaking now, and very enthusiastically at that.

"Vell, ve have a castle also, not as big as this, nor as comfortable, I am thinking," he was telling his date. "Ve have just four floors, and the fires are lit only for magical purposes. But ve have grounds bigger than these—though in vinter, ve have very little daylight, so ve are enjoying them. But in summer ve are flying every day, over the lakes and the mountains—"

"Now, now, Viktor!" Karkaroff said with a laugh that did not quite reach his cold eyes, "don't go giving away anything else, now, or your charming friend will know exactly where to find us!"

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Igor, all this secrecy…one would almost think you didn't want visitors."

"Well, Dumbledore," Karkaroff said, displaying all of his yellow teeth to their fullest extent, "we are all protective of our private domains, are we not? Do we not jealously guard the halls of learning that have been entrusted to us? Are we not right to be proud that we alone know our school's secrets, and right to protect them?"

"Oh, I would never dream to assume I know all Hogwarts' secrets, Igor," Dumbledore replied with a smile. "Only this morning, for instance, I took a wrong turning on the way to the bathroom and found myself in a beautifully proportioned room I have never seen before, containing a really magnificent collection of chamber pots. When I went back to investigate more closely, I discovered that the room had vanished…"

Meanwhile Fleur was criticizing the Hogwarts decorations to Roger Davies.

"Zis is nothing," she said dismissively, looking around at the sparkling walls of the Great Hall. "At ze Palace of Beauxbatons, we 'ave ice sculptors all around ze dining chamber at Chreestmas. Zey do not melt, of course…zey are like 'uge statues of diamond, glittering around ze palace. And ze food is seemply superb. And we 'ave choirs of wood nymphs, 'oo serenade us as we eat. We 'ave none of zis ugly armor in ze 'alls, and eef a poltergeist ever entaired into Beauxbatons, 'e would be expelled like _zat_." She slapped her hand onto the table impatiently.

Roger Davies was watching her talk with a very dazed look on his face, and he kept missing his mouth with his fork. Harish snorted into his goulash at the ridiculous boy. He had the impression that Davies was too busy staring at Fleur to take in a word she was saying.

"Absolutely right," he said, quickly slapping his hand onto the table in imitation of Fleur. "Like _that_. Yeah."

Harish shook his head and turned to Daphne, raising his eyebrow at her. As she had been listening in on their conversation as well, she giggled.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," Daphne replied with a smile, scooting a piece of lettuce with her fork absentmindedly.

After the food had all been consumed, Dumbledore stood up and asked the students to do the same. Then, with a wave of his wand, all of the tables zoomed back along the walls leaving the floor clear, and then he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes were set upon it.

As the lights on the tables dimmed and the dance floor was lit was lit with bright spotlights, Harish held a hand out and said, turning to Daphne, "Could I have this dance?"

"Of course," she replied with a radiant smile.

He placed one hand on her waist, and grasped her hand lightly in his own. Then, they began dancing as the Weird Sister struck a low and mournful tune. After a few minutes, others came onto the dance floor and the champions were no longer the center of attention. Draco and Ginny were dancing nearby—Draco kept glancing around nervously. But, after a minute or so, Draco became more comfortable and really seemed to be enjoying himself. Dumbledore was waltzing with Madame Maxime, so dwarfed by her that his pointed hat barely tickled her chin. A few feet further, George and Angelina were dancing so exuberantly that the people around them were backing away in fear of injury.

Harish heard the final, quavering note from the bagpipe and his hand fell away from Daphne's waist, though he did not even realize he was still holding her hand.

"Shall we find the others?" he asked.

Daphne nodded. "That would be nice."

So, he led her out of the crowd. When Draco and Ginny saw them walking away, they followed. As he passed George, he tapped him lightly on the shoulder and the red-head followed as well. The three couples found themselves a table at the edge of the room and sat down to catch up with each other.

Then, after a few minutes, a certain red-haired cretin stomped up to their table.

"Ginny!" Ron spluttered. "What are you…why… _what?_ "

"It is none of your business who I decide to go out with, Ron," Ginny replied, sticking her nose into the air.

"But that's _Malfoy!_ " Ron exclaimed.

"I am aware that _Draco_ is a Malfoy, thank you very much," Ginny stated, annoyance seeping into her voice.

When his sister had called Draco by his first name, Ron had looked as though he had been slapped in the face. Then, his face grew very red as he became even angrier.

"It just so happens," Ginny continued. "That I _like_ Draco, and he likes me. So buzz off."

"He's just playing you. He's a dirty, stinking Slytherin who's as dark as his father. You'll regret falling for him, you will!"

Draco finally stood up.

"I think you heard your sister properly," he hissed, standing his ground. "So why don't you buzz off and annoy someone else?"

Ron glared at Draco, but wisely said nothing else. Instead, he harrumphed and stomped away to where his date was sitting very sullenly.

"What an idiot," Ginny muttered, shaking his head.

"Moron," Draco stated, agreeing with his date.

Hermione sat down at the table after the second song ended.

"Where's Fred?" Harish asked.

"He's gone to get us drinks," she said. She was smiling and her face was very pink from dancing.

Harish leaned over, and sure enough, he could spot Fred holding two cups of butterbeers. Harish waved and Fred nodded, walking over to them. He handed Hermione her drink and sat down beside her. As another song started, Harish said, "Oh, this one sounds lively. Care to dance?"

He offered Daphne his hand again.

She took it with a smile and Harish pulled her to her feet before spinning her around. They began dancing once again, but this time they kept dancing until they were both so tired and so hot that they could hardly breathe. Laughing, Harish held onto Daphne's hand and the two of them left the Great Hall.

The front doors of the castle were open, and the fluttering fairy lights in the rose garden winked and twinkled as they went down the front steps, where they found themselves surrounded by bushes, winding, paths, and large stone statues. Here and there, there were benches with couples sitting on them. Harish and Daphne set along one of the windy paths, walking in comfortable silence, but they hadn't gone far before they could hear voices.

"…don't see what all the fuss is about, Igor."

"Severus, you cannot pretend this isn't happening!" Karkaroff's voice sounded anxious and hushed, as though he was very keen on not being overheard. "It's been getting clearer and clearer for months. I am becoming seriously concerned, I can't deny it—"

"Then flee," Snape replied curtly. "Flee—I will make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts."

Harish and Daphne glanced at each other, both wondering what was worrying Karkaroff so much. Harish put a finger up to his lips and crept forward. He leaned far enough past the corner of the pathway to see Karkaroff's back to him. He was holding his arm out and Snape was looking at it. Almost as if Snape had sensed movement, his eyes jerked over to where Harish had been peering. The teen backed away as quick as possible, stood by Daphne, and straightened his robes. Snape and Karkaroff came round the corner seconds later. Snape had his wand out and was blasting rosebushes apart, his expression most disagreeable. Squeals came from the many rustling bushes and dark shapes emerged from them.

"Ten points from Ravenclaw, Fawcett!" Snape snarled as a girl ran past him. "And ten points from Hufflepuff too, Stebbins!" as a boy went rushing after her. "And what are you two doing?" he rounded on Harish and Daphne.

"Walking," Harish replied smoothly. "It's much more airy—"

"Well, keep walking!" Snape hissed, and he brushed past them, his long black cloak billowing behind him. Karkaroff hurried away after the Potions Master. Harish and Daphne continued walking down the path.

Harish laughed, "He thinks he is so dramatic."

"I wonder what has gotten Karkaroff all worked up though?" Daphne mused.

"From what I observed, his Dark Mark is growing darker," Harish replied.

They stopped walking.

"What?" Daphne asked, turning to look at him.

"Well," Harish replied slowly, "I guess it is about time my father starts the war back up again. I am old enough to fight in it."

He knew that Daphne's family was neutral, so speaking of war made him uneasy around her.

"So he is recalling his old Death Eaters?" Daphne questioned him.

"I expect so, yeah," Harish replied. "But…if my father really _does_ restart the war, what will you do? I mean, I know your family is light and all, but mine is dark, so…" Harish trailed off, looking down at the ground. This was one thing that worried him. He was half afraid that Daphne would leave him if he joined the war.

"Why should that keep me from supporting you?" Daphne asked.

Harish looked up at her, his face a mixture of shock, relief, and joy. Then, without thinking, he leaned forward and their mouths met. Then, as there was a loud shriek, the two broke apart. Both of them were in shock from their kiss and flushing happily, too preoccupied to pay much notice when Madame Maxime's voice broke the silence of the pathway with a trumpet like blast of noise.

"I 'ave nevair been more insulted in my life! 'Alf-giant? _Moi?_ I 'ave—I 'ave big bones!" And Madame Maxime came striding angrily past them.

Under normal circumstances, the two would have been wondering about Hagrid being a half-giant, but both were still thinking of their kiss. Harish laughed at her after she had passed, and then said to Daphne, "Come on. It should be nearing midnight."

So the two of them went down to the Slytherin common room. Harish bid Daphne good night before going into his dormitory, sit on his bed, and let out a great sigh. He fell back onto his bed and smiled happily, remembering the feel of Daphne's lips on his. And as Harish drifted off to sleep, he felt as though for once something was right with the world.

* * *

 **Yay! Happy Hawish! R &R!**

 **~TTFN**


	82. Part 6: Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-One: A Giant Problem**

After Christmas, everyone busied themselves with the homework that they had neglected the first week of vacation. Harish, who had already done his, was sitting on a couch with the Golden Egg in his lap. He was holding the book he had gotten from his father up to his nose, reading it. Then, he sighed and placed the book aside.

How was he supposed to know what plant to use, when he didn't even know what he was using it for? The boy decided that there was no way around it; he would have to solve the screeching of the Golden Egg before the Second Task.

Once Boxing Day passed, Harish was beginning to feel the press to prepare for the Second Task. Before, Harish had slacked off, knowing that it was ages away, but February 24th looked a lot closer on the other side of Christmas.

Then, the teen began to ponder different mediums the eggs could be put in that would change the wailing. At first he had thought that maybe it was fire, as he had gained the egg from a dragon, but when he had opened it and placed it in the fire, there was no difference.

So, that led Harish to wonder what else he could do to the egg. Another medium that he could put the egg in was water. So, with that, the teen decided his plan of action.

As a prefect, Harish had many special privileges. One of them was the prefects' bathroom. It had a large pool-like bathtub with many soap filled taps. Harish also suspected that the water was charmed to never cool. It would be the perfect place to test his theory, Harish decided. The only thing was, he would look like a fool, bathing with his egg. And he never really liked bathing in there when there were other people in the bathroom. So, Harish decided that he would make a nightly visit to the prefects' bathroom on the fourth floor.

The next morning, the first day of the new term, the sixth years were pleasantly surprised by a large notice that had been pinned to each of the common room notice boards.

 **Apparition Lessons**

 **If you are seventeen years of age, or will turn seventeen on or before the 31st of August next, you are eligible for a twelve-week course of Apparition Lessons from a Ministry of Magic Apparition Instructor. Please sign below if you would like to participate. Cost: 12 Galleons.**

Harish and the twins signed the notice and talked eagerly of Apparition Lessons all the way down to breakfast, where they sat down at the center of the Slytherin table. Again, Harish was feeling the soreness that came with the fact that his birthday was the latest of his year-mates. While he sulked about this, an owl flew in to their table, a copy of the Daily Prophet in its beak. Harish took the paper and paid the owl. Then, he opened the paper and dropped it in surprise. Then, he snatched it back up and scanned the article.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"What is it?" Daphne asked.

"Well," Harish said, setting the paper back down. "Now we know what had gotten Madame Maxime so riled up at the ball." He handed her the paper. Hermione and Draco leaned over her shoulders to read as well. While they read, Harish explained to the twins about what he and Daphne had overheard at the ball.

Sprawled across the top of the paper, the headline read:

 **Dumbledore's Giant Mistake**

 _Albus Dumbledore, eccentric headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has never been afraid to make controversial staff appointments, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. In September of this year, he hired Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, the notoriously jinx-happy ex-Auror, to teach Defense Against the Darks Arts, a decision that caused many raised eyebrows at the Ministry of Magic, given Moody's well-known habit of attacking anyone who makes a sudden movement in his presence. Mad-Eye Moody, however, looks responsible and kindly when set beside the part human Dumbledore employs to teach Care of Magical Creatures_.

 _Rubeus Hagrid, who admits to being expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, has enjoyed the position of gamekeeper at the school ever since, a job secured for him by Dumbledore. Last year, however, Hagrid used his mysterious influence over the headmaster to secure the additional post of Care of Magical Creatures teacher, over the heads of many better-qualified candidates._

 _An alarmingly large and ferocious-looking man, Hagrid has been using his newfound authority to terrify students in his care with a succession of horrific creatures. While Dumbledore turns a blind eye, Hagrid has maimed several pupils during a series of lessons that many of the students admit to being "very frightening."_

 _Hagrid has no intention of ceasing his campaign of intimidation, however. In conversation with a_ Daily Prophet _reporter last month, he admitted breeding creatures he has dubbed "Blast Ended Skrewts," highly dangerous crossed between manticores and fire-crabs. The creation of new breeds of magical creature is, of course, an activity usually closely observed by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Hagrid, however, considers himself to be above such petty restrictions._

" _I was just having some fun," he says, before hastily changing the subject._

 _As if this is not enough, the_ Daily Prophet _has now unearthed evidence that Hagrid is not—as he has always pretended—a pureblood wizard. He is not, in fact, even pure human. His mother, we can exclusively reveal, is none other than the giantess Fridwulfa, whose whereabouts are currently unknown._

 _Bloodthirsty and brutal, the giants brought themselves to the point of extinction by warring amongst themselves during the last century. The handful that remained joined the ranks of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and were responsible for some of the worst mass muggle killings of his reign of terror._

 _While many of the giants who served He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were killed by Aurors working against the Dark Side, Fridwulfa was not amongst them. It is possible she escaped to one of the giant communities still existing in foreign mountain ranges. If his antics during Care of Magical Creatures lessons are any guide, however, Fridwulfa's son appears to have inherited her brutal nature…_

"So Hagrid is half-giant?" Daphne asked after she had finished.

"And it seems as though he thought Madame Maxime was one as well," George added, thoughtfully.

"Well," Harish said. "There is a very good chance that she _is_ half-giant and doesn't want to admit it for the fear of the same thing happening to her. I mean, Hagrid will be eaten up alive when this gets out. Parents will be afraid he'll attack their children."

"But Hagrid isn't vicious," Hermione protested. "He is a very nice man."

"But the parents won't know that," Harish replied.

"Yeah," Draco agreed. "And do you really admit that Hagrid is the best teacher? With all of the wild things we've had to care for?"

"Not to mention that last class when Hagrid tried to get us to see if the Skrewts hibernated," Daphne added.

The three fourth years shuddered.

"And this is why I dropped the class and took up Arithmancy instead," Harish said, smoothing his toast with butter.

The twins nodded.

They all finished eating breakfast and split up. Harish and the twins went off to the dungeons for Potions and the trio of fourth years went out to the grounds for Care of Magical Creatures. But instead of Hagrid waiting on them with some new monster, they were greeted by an old woman with a box full of what looked like bowtruckles.

"Hurry up, hurry up," the woman barked.

"Who are you?" Daphne asked.

"Professor Grubbly-Plank. I will be teaching you while Professor Hagrid is unavailable."

And for the first time, the trio of fourth years grinned, actually looking forward to a Care of Magical Creatures lesson.

* * *

 **TTFN**


	83. Part 6: Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Two: Pajama Parties**

That night Harish went down to the dormitory early. Everyone else was still up in the common room, hanging out. The young wizard emptied his school bag and put a towel, his egg, the Marauder's Map, and his Invisibility Cloak in it. Then, he changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed. Then, he waited there until all of the other boys came in and went to bed.

Harish listened as their breathing became steady and several boys started snoring. Then, he grabbed his wand, murmuring, " _Lumos!_ "

His wand lit up and Harish picked up his bag. He pulled the cloak out of it and put it on. The teen pulled up the hood, pulled out the map, and exited the dormitory. Harish checked to make sure that the coast was clear on the map before leaving the Slytherin common room. From there, he headed up to the fourth floor. When Harish reached a statue of Boris the Bewildered, he could see the door.

The teen walked over to it and muttered, "Pine Fresh."

The door creaked open and Harish winced. He glanced both ways before sidling through the door and shutting it behind him. The pool was glittering in the moonlight. All around it were golden taps that each had a different type of soap in it. There was a diving board at one end and at the other, against the wall, was a bench full of towels. Harish glanced up at the painting on the wall. In it was a mermaid that was fast asleep on a rock. Her hair fluttered every time she breathed out. Harish sighed in relief. She was rather annoying when awake, and Harish had no doubt that she would tell someone that he was out at night if she was.

Harish pulled the cloak off and set it and his school bag by the bench in the corner that held numerous fluffy, white towels. Then, he pulled his pajamas off and stuffed them into his bag. Finally, he pulled out his egg and dropped into the pool. The teen set the egg on the side of the pool. The water came up to his neck. Harish was sure that if he was much shorter, it would have been rather hard for him to stand.

Knowing he had all night, Harish then climbed out, and went over to the white diving board. He grinned and ran down it, before jumping off the end, doing a flip midair, and landing in the water. He had always wanted to do that, but being the son of Voldemort he had a reputation to uphold.

Then, Harish swam over to his egg and twiddled all of the taps that were within an arm's reach. Soon the pool was full of all sort of bubbles. There were large bubbles, small bubbles, pink foam, green foam, and blue foam. Some of them were heavily perfumed as well. Finally, after he was sure he had been there at least an hour, Harish grabbed the egg of the side of the pool and split it open, then he submerged it under the water and plunged in after it.

" _Come seek us where our voices sound,_

 _We cannot sing above the ground,_

 _And while you're searching, ponder this:_

 _We've taken what you'll sorely miss,_

 _An hour you have to look,_

 _And to recover what we took,_

 _But past an hour—the prospect's black,_

 _Too late, it's gone, it won't come back."_

Harish let himself float back up and let in a gasp of air when his head broke the surface. Water and bubbles were streaming down into his mouth and eyes. Harish flipped his wet hair back, away from his eyes.

"Oh, you got it very quick!" A voice said from behind him.

Harish jumped and turned around to see a ghostly girl sitting on one of the taps behind him. It was Moaning Myrtle, the ghost that lived in the bathroom that held the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

"I thought you stayed in the girls' bathroom on the first floor?" Harish asked.

"We can go other places, you know," Myrtle said glumly. "I've even been flushed once or twice into the black lake. So," Myrtle said. "Did you figure out your egg?"

"It said, 'come seek us where our voices sound…we cannot sing above the ground…' I'm guessing that means underwater, because you can't hear the song of the egg out of the water, so the Black Lake? And…hang on," he went under water and listened to it one more time before coming back out of the water and said, "We have one hour to retrieve something from the Black Lake. Myrtle, there are not mermaids in the Black Lake, are there?"

"Oh yes," Myrtle said even more glumly. "They like to throw spears through me every time I get flushed into the lake. As if it's my fault!" and she plunged away into the tap she was sitting on.

Harish shook his head before climbing out over the water and drying off with one of the towels. Then, he put his pajamas on again and put the egg back into his book bag. The teen slipped the cloak over his head and left the bathroom.

Out in the dark corridor, Harish examined the map to check that the coast was still clear. The dots belonging to Filch were in his office on the third floor, Peeves was bouncing around the trophy room on the fifth floor, and there were no teachers patrolling the corridors. Harish took a step toward the dungeon before he stopped, realizing that Peeves was not the only dot on the map that was moving.

There was someone moving around in Snape's office, but it wasn't Snape himself. It was a dot that was labeled, "Bradwr Jugson". Harish's eyes narrowed. What was _Jugson_ doing in Snape's office? Harish decided that since his dormitory wasn't very far from Snape's office, there was nothing wrong with stopping by and investigating.

The teen moved faster, still heading for the dungeons. He walked as quietly as he could, but as portraits' heads turned as the stairs squeaked, and his feet made little noises, Harish wished he knew a spell that would make them silent. Harish continued to creep along the corridor, pushed aside a tapestry about halfway along, and proceeded along down a narrower staircase, a shortcut that would take him down two floors. He kept glancing down at the map, making sure that Jugson was still there and that no one had come up behind him.

And then, halfway down the staircase, not thinking about what he was doing as he was checking the map once more, Harish's leg suddenly sank down into the trick-step, that normally he subconsciously avoided. He gave an ungainly wobble and, still damp from the bath, his golden egg slipped from under his arm. He lurched forward to try to catch it, but it was too late; the egg fell down the long staircase with a loud bang on every single step that was as loud as a brass band. The Invisibility Cloak slipped and Harish wisely stuffed the map into his bag and grabbed at the cloak at the same time.

The egg landed at the bottom of the staircase, fell through the tapestry at the end of the corridor, burst open, and began wailing loudly in the corridor below. Harish pulled the cloak back on and made sure that none of him showed. The teen stood stock-still, listening, for surely someone could hear the horrible racket the egg was making. Harish was shame-faced as he thought of what his father might say if he knew he had been caught in such circumstances.

And then, Harish was saved from his self-loathing when Filch bellowed, "PEEVES!"

The teen could hear Filch's uneven, shuffling steps grow nearer, his voice wheezy in fury.

"What's this racket? Wake up the whole castle, will you? I'll have you, Peeves, I'll have you, you'll…and what is this?"

Filch's footsteps halted; there was a clink of metal on metal and the wailing stopped—Filch had picked up the egg and closed it. Harish stood very still, one leg still jammed tightly in the magical step, listening. Any moment Filch was going to pull aside the tapestry, expecting to see Peeves…and there was no Peeves…and there was a very good chance that he would walk straight into Harish if he tried to go up the stairs.

"Egg?" Filch wondered aloud. "My sweet!"—Mrs. Norris was obviously with him—"This is a Triwizard clue! This belongs to a school champion!"

Harish heart was beating harder than it probably had his entire life. He had never been caught doing anything before. What would they do to him if he was caught out of bed past hours? Would there still be a chance that he might be able to get away?

"PEEVES!" Filch roared gleefully. "You've been stealing!"

He ripped back the tapestry below, and Harish saw his face staring at the staircase that hid Harish, still stuck in the trick step.

"Hiding are you?" he asked softly. "Im coming to get you, Peeves…You've gone and stolen a Triwizard clue, Peeves…Dumbledore will have to put you out of here for this, you filthy, pilfering poltergeist…"

With nothing to lose, Harish wordlessly cast a spell that he hoped would free him from magic stair. He thought, _"Repellere!"_ and pointed his wand at his leg. Miraculously, the young wizard's leg popped out and he carefully stepped onto the step below, making sure that the cloak didn't come up at his feet. Harish pressed himself up against the wall as Filch came nearer.

Then, the man halted as another voice called form the foot of the stairs, "Filch? What's going on?"

Filch stopped just a few steps below Harish and turned. Mrs. Norris rubbed against his pinstriped bed robe. Harish turned to look as well and saw his Head of House at the foot of the stairs; someone who Harish certainly did not want to be caught by. He was wearing a long grey night-shirt and he looked livid.

"It's Peeves, Professor," Filch replied. "He threw this egg down the stairs."

Snape climbed up the stairs quickly and stopped beside Filch, right in front of Harish. The teen clenched his teeth in annoyance, but was afraid to move for fear of being heard. Finally, Harish began to sidle to the other side of the staircase.

"Peeves?" Snape asked softly, staring at the egg in Filch's hands. "But Peeves couldn't get into my office…"

"This egg was in your office, Professor?"

"Of course not," Snape snapped. "I heard banging and wailing—"

"Yes, Professor, that was the egg—"

"—I was coming to investigate—"

"—Peeves threw it, Professor—"

"—and when I passed my office, I saw that the torches were lit and a cupboard door was ajar! Someone has been searching it!"

"But Peeves couldn't—"

"I know he couldn't, Filch!" Snape snapped again. "I seal my office with a spell none but a wizard could break!" Snape looked up the stairs and then down to the corridor below. "I want you to come and help me search for the intruder, Filch."

"I—yes, Professor—but—"

Filch look yearningly up the stairs, as if he could see himself throwing Peeves out of the castle. Mrs. Norris walked over to Harish, staring at him with her lamp-like eyes. He began to quietly step down the stairs.

"The thing is, Professor," Filch said plaintively, "the headmaster will have to listen to me this time. Peeves has been stealing from a student, it might be my chance to get him thrown out of the castle once and for all—"

"Filch, I don't give a damn about that wretched poltergeist; it's my office that's—"

 _Clunk. Clunk. Clunk._

Snape stopped talking abruptly. He and Filch both looked down at the foot of the stairs. Harish saw Mad-eye Moody limp into sight through the tapestry. He was wearing his old traveling cloak over his nightshirt and leaning on his staff, as usual.

"Pajama party, is it?" he growled up the stairs.

"Professor Snape and I heard noises, Professor," Filch replied at once. "Peeves the Poltergeist, throwing things around as usual—and the Professor Snape discovered that someone had broken into his off—"

"Shut up!" Snape hissed.

Harish narrowed his eyes in confusion. Why didn't Snape want Moody to know that his office had been broken into. Wasn't Moody supposed to be one of the _good_ guys (for Dumbledore's side anyway)?

Meanwhile, Moody took a step closer to the foot of the stairs. Harish saw his magical eye travel across the two adults, and then unmistakably land on him. Harish then realized that old Mad-Eye could see through invisibility cloaks. He alone could see the full strangeness of the scene: Snape in his nightshirt, Filch clutching the egg, and Harish standing uselessly just below them in his pajamas and under an invisibility cloak. Moody's lopsided mouth fell open in surprise. For a few seconds, he and Harish stared straight at each other. Then, Moody closed his mouth and turned his blue eye upon Snape again.

"Did I hear that correctly, Snape?" he asked slowly. "Someone broke into your office?"

"It is unimportant," Snape replied coldly.

"On the contrary," Moody growled, "it is very important. Who'd want to break into your office?"

"A student, I daresay," Snape said. Harish could see a vein flickering horribly in his head. "It has happened before. Potion ingredients have gone missing from my private stores…students attempting illicit mixtures, no doubt…"

"Reckon they were after your potion ingredients, eh?" Moody questioned. "Not hiding anything else in your office, are you?"

"You know I am hiding nothing, Moody," he said in a soft and dangerous voice. "as you've searched my office pretty thoroughly yourself."

Moody's face twisted into a smile. "Auror's privilege, Snape. Dumbledore told me to keep an eye—"

"Dumbledore happens to trust me," Snape said through clenched teeth. "I refuse to believe that he gave you orders to search my office!"

"'Course Dumbledore trusts you," Moody growled. "He's a trusting man, isn't he? Believes in second chances. But me—I say there're spots that don't come off, Snape. Spots that never come off, d'you know what I mean."

Snape suddenly seized his left forearm as though it had burned him. Harish, of course, knew that it was where Dark Marks were located. Did this mean that Snape was a Death Eater? It would make sense why Karkaroff would talk to him about his Dark Mark. It also made sense why Voldemort hadn't called him right away, because Dumbledore would be sure to find out if Voldemort did.

Moody laughed. "Get back to bed, Snape."

"You don't have any authority to send me anywhere!" Snape hissed, letting go of his arm as though angry with himself. "I have as much right to prowl this school after dark as you do!"

"Well, prowl away, then," Moody said with a smile, though his voice was full of menace. "I look forward to meeting you in a dark corridor sometime…"

And Snape stalked off with a huff. Harish almost laughed as he noticed that Snape looked less than half as menacing as he was when he had robes to swish dramatically.

"Now, Filch," Moody said, "if you'll just hand me that egg—"

"No!" Filch exclaimed, clutching the egg to his chest. "Professor Moody, this is evidence of Peeves' treachery!"

"It's the property of the champion he stole it from, now hand it over."

Filch handed the egg to Moody and disappeared from view, muttering, "Never mind, my sweet…we'll see Dumbledore in the morning…tell him what Peeves was up to…"

A door slammed. Harish was left waiting for Moody to give his egg back. Moody did so after moment's silence.

"Thanks, Professor," Harish muttered before walking down the rest of the stairs.

Moody's voice halted him.

"Nothing like a nighttime stroll to give you ideas to solve the clue, Blake…" Moody said with an odd expression.

Harish nodded awkwardly before pushing through the tapestry and finding his way down to the common room. He walked past the green couches, pulling off the cloak. Then, he went down a flight of stairs to the sixth year boys' dormitory. Once inside, he dropped onto his bed, and fell asleep. That had certainly been an experience he would not like to repeat.

* * *

 **TaTaForNow**


	84. Part 6: Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Three: The Three D's**

It took both Fred and George nearly half an hour to get Harish up in time for classes the next day. He ate breakfast quickly before hurrying back down to the dormitory where he put his school books back into his book bag and slipped _Magical Water Plants of the Highland Lochs_ in as well. Then, the teen hurried up to meet with the twins and they went off to classes together.

That day in Charms, Harish told them about his nighttime adventure. The twins were impressed that he had figured the riddle out so quickly, but agreed with him that he was stupid for getting stuck in that trick step. Then, they began discussing the second task once again.

"But, Harish," Fred said as they were dismissed from class. "How are you going to breathe underwater?"

"Well," Harish replied. "We _have_ been learning human transfiguration in class, but I don't think I am quite ready for that yet. I might do it wrong and end up horribly mutating myself. And of course, the next option would be the bubble head charm, but that one I think is a bit overused and it won't really help for much but _breathing_. So, that's why I have this."

He held up his book he had received for Christmas.

"Magical Water Plants of the Highland Lochs?" the twins both read the title aloud.

"I thought it might have something in here that would help," Harish replied. "I've been reading through it."

Harish put the book back into his bag as they entered their Potions classroom and the three of them sat at a table at the back of the room.

That evening Harish was reading through his plant book when he suddenly exclaimed, "I found it! I found it!"

All of his friends all turned and looked at him with curiousity and Fred and George climbed over the couch to have a look.

"Found what?" Draco asked.

"The key to breathing underwater for an hour! It's Gillyweed!"

"Gillyweed?" everyone asked.

"This here says that it causes someone to sprout gills," Harish said, "and that their hands and feet web over like a frog's."

"That would work!" the twins exclaimed.

"Gills would let you breathe, obviously," Fred said.

"And webbed feet would make you go faster!" George added.

"The only thing is," Harish said. "I don't have any Gillyweed."

"Can you even buy Gillyweed in your everyday Apothecary?" Draco asked.

Everyone turned and looked at Hermione.

"Why are you looking at _me_?" Hermione protested.

"You're the one that always knows everything," Draco replied.

"On the contrary, I do _not_ know everything," Hermione harrumphed, sticking her nose in the air.

"Maybe I could send a letter and ask my father," Harish said.

"Good idea," the twins said agreeably.

"If not," Hermione said as they left the room, "I know Professor Snape has some in his private stores."

Harish went down to his dormitory and wrote a letter to his father, asking about Gillyweed. He wrote one to Sirius while he was at it, telling him everything that was going on, including Snape's office being broken into. Then, the young wizard went up to the Owlry and sent them both off with a school owl. Finally, Harish returned to the common room just before curfew and went to bed.

The next day, February started with a bang. The twins had calculated the weeks they would be taking the lessons and discovered that the Apparition Tests would be three weeks after they turned seventeen. Harish sulked. It also happened to be sixteen weeks _before_ his own birthday.

The first day of the month also happened to be the first Saturday of the month, and it was the day of the first lesson. Harish, Fred, and George arrived in the Great Hall to discover that all of the tables had disappeared. Though it was still chilly outside, the snow had melted signifying that the rainy season had begun. Because of this, rain lashed against the windows and the ceiling swirled with darkness as the sixth years assembled in front of Professors McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, and Sprout—the Heads of Houses—and a small wizard whom Harish took to be the Apparition instructor from the Ministry.

He was oddly colorless, with transparent eyelashes, wispy hair, and an insubstantial air, as though a single gust of wind might blow him away. Harish vaguely wondered whether his odd appearance was caused by him apparating so much, as Harish was sure he taught Apparition every year, or whether it was just an ideal build for someone wishing to vanish.

"Good morning," the Ministry wizard said, when all the students had arrived and the Heads of Houses had called for quiet. "My name is Wilke Twycross and I shall be your Ministry Apparition instructor for the next twelve weeks. I hope to be able to prepare you for your Apparition Tests in this time, by which time many of you may be ready to take your tests.

"As you may know, it is usually impossible to Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts. The headmaster has lifted this enchantment, purely within the Great Hall, for one hour, so as to enable you to practice. May I emphasize that you will not be able to Apparate outside the walls of this Hall, and that you would be unwise to try.

"I would like each of you to place yourselves now so that you have five clear feet of space in front of you."

There was a great scrambling and jostling as people separated, banged into each other, and ordered others out of their space. The Heads of Houses moved among the students, marshaling them into position and breaking up arguments. Then, they called for quiet once again as everyone was situated.

"Thank you," Twycross said. "Now then…"

He waved his wand. Old fashioned wooden hoops instantly appeared on the floor in front of every student.

"The important thing to remember when Apparating are the three D's!" Twycross exclaimed. "Destination, Determination, and Deliberation!

"Step one: Fix your mind firmly on the desired _destination_ ," Twycross informed them. "In this case, the interior of your hoop. Kindly concentrate upon that destination now."

Everyone glanced around furtively to check that everyone else was staring into their hoop, and then hastily did as they were told. Harish stared at the circular patch of dusty floor enclosed by his hoop and tried to think of nothing else. This was proving difficult, as he kept wondering whether his father had gotten his letter yet or not, as it had been two days since he had sent it.

"Step two," Twycross said, interrupting Harish's thoughts, who hastily began focusing on his hoop once again. "focus your _determination_ to occupy the visualized space! Let your yearning to enter it flood from your mind to every part of your body!"

Harish had no idea what the dotty old man had meant by that, so he tried to imagine himself disappearing with a pop and reappearing inside the circle.

"Step three," Twycross called, "and only when I give the command…Turn on the spot, feeling your way into nothingness, moving with _deliberation_! On my command, now…one—"

Harish glanced around again; there were a lot of people that looked absolutely distressed at being asked to Apparate so quickly.

"—two—"

Harish tried to fix his thoughts on his hoop again; he had already forgotten what the three D's stood for.

"—THREE!"

Harish spun on the spot, lost balance, and nearly fell over. He was not the only one, The whole Hall was suddenly full of staggering people; Adrian Pucey had spun himself right into the person next to him. Marcus Belby had done a sort of pirouetting leap into his hoop and had looked momentarily thrilled before he had caught sight of Lee Jordan roaring in laughter at him.

"Never mind, never mind," Twycross said dryly, who did not seem to have expected anything better. "Adjust your hoops, please, and back to your original positions…"

Harish forced himself to focus, as he knew his father would be disappointed in him. He returned to his spot, staring a hole into his hoop and repeating the three D's (once he had remembered what they stood for). Twycross began counting once again.

"One—"

Harish stared into his hoop, his destination, and once again imagined himself appearing inside it.

"—two—"

Harish was certainly determined all right. He was determined to prove himself to his father. He braced himself and felt his magic flooding his body.

"—THREE!"

Harish turned on his heel, his magic pulsing through his body, with what he hoped was deliberation. He was still focusing on his hoop with all of his might. Suddenly, everything went black. For a moment, Harish thought he had made himself pass out. Perhaps he had forgotten to breathe because he had been concentrating too hard. As he thought this, he realized he still couldn't breathe. It felt as though he were being shoved through a rubber tube. There were iron bands tightening around his chest, his eyes were being forced into his skull, his eardrums felt as though they would burst, and then—

He gulped in great lungfuls of air and opened his streaming eyes. He swayed and fell over onto his butt, and then realized he was sprawled inside his hoop.

Harish was congratulated for being the first to successfully manage Apparition, and Twycross told him he could sit out the next attempt in order to catch his breath. The rest of the session, Harish was the only one who managed to Apparate successfully. Alicia Spinnet had managed to Apparate inside her hoop on the fifth try, but had accidently Splinched her ears. How _that_ happened, Harish had no idea, but Twycross had said that it came from lack of determination.

An hour later, Twycross fastened his cloak at his neck and said, "Until next Saturday, everyone, do not forget: _Destination. Determination. Deliberation._ "

And with that, he waved his wand, Vanishing the hoops. And walked out of the Hall accompanied by Professor McGonagall. Talk broke out at once as people began moving toward the entrance hall.

"Of course you were the only one to Apparate," Fred muttered as he and his twin walked over to Harish.

"I think the last time I tried, I felt something," George protested. "A kind of tingling in my feet."

Harish laughed.

"Lighten up," he said. "It is not the end of the world that you didn't manage the first day. Besides, at least you'll be able to take your test sooner than me. I have the lovely benefit of knowing that I can Apparate, but I won't be allowed to until almost next Fall."

"What did it feel like?" both twins asked.

"Like being eaten by the giant squid," Harish replied, massaging his ribs. "I couldn't breathe."

The twins and Harish joined in a moment later. They were still laughing when they entered the common room. Draco looked at Harish as though his head had been cut off, only making them laugh harder.

* * *

 **TTFN**


	85. Part 6: Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Four: Of Mermaids and Gillyweed**

Days passed and Harish still had not received a reply from either Voldemort or Sirius. As it began to get closer and closer to the 24th of February, Harish began to worry, and wonder if the owl he had used had gotten lost or something. Time began to fly much like it had before the first task and Harish still had no letter.

It was as though someone had bewitched all of the clocks in Hogwarts to go extra fast. There was a week to go before February 24th (there was still time)…Another Apparition lesson had passed and Fred had managed to Apparate…there were five days to go (his father was bound to send a letter soon)…Professor Moody made them cast very complex hexes nonverbally on rodents…

Finally, when there were three days left before the Second Task, Harish received a very short letter from his father.

 _Don't worry. I have it covered._

He had it covered? What was that supposed to mean? Did he have Gillyweed? How was he planning on getting it to Harish? Then, the next day Harish received a letter from Sirius. This one was just as short, but had a slightly different note to it.

 _Send date of next Hogsmeade weekend by return owl._

"Weekend after next," Fred said, as both of the twins had read the note over his shoulder.

"Here," George muttered. "Use my quill."

And Harish scrawled the date of the next Hogsmeade weekend on the back of the slip of parchment and sent it back with the owl that had brought it.

"What does he want to know —"

"About the next Hogsmeade weekend for?" the twins asked.

Harish shrugged. He was still pondering what Voldemort meant, and was still very worried as there were two days until the Second Task and he still did not have any Gillyweed.

By the evening before the Second Task, Harish had sent his father multiple letters about what he meant, but had received no reply. He finally resigned himself to trusting that the Dark Lord knew what he was doing and he would just have to have faith in him. Still, he was too nervous to do any of his homework. He sat in the common room, staring at the fire.

Everyone else went to bed early with an exception for the twins, who were in the library figuring out a new joke product. Draco and Daphne tried to convince Harish to go to bed, but they were unsuccessful.

"Go on down, Daphne," Draco said. "I'll talk to him."

Daphne nodded and went to her own dormitory. Then, Draco said, "Come on Harish you'll need your strength for tomorrow."

"I won't be able to sleep anyway," Harish protested. "I'm just too worried. What if I show up tomorrow for the task, unprepared and looking like a fool?"

"You won't," Draco reassured him. "Your father is a smart man. He's probably just been busy or something."

Just then, the entrance to the common room opened and the twins came in.

"Draco, Professor McGonagall wants you," George informed him.

"Why?" Draco asked.

They shrugged.

"She was looking sort of grim, though," George replied.

"Grim?" Draco asked, walking out of the common room.

The twins then rounded on Harish.

Without a word to him, they seized his arms and dragged him off the couch.

"Fine, fine!" he snapped. "I'll go to bed!"

And he followed them down the stairs to their dormitory and went to bed. He drifted asleep some time past one o'clock in the morning.

Harish woke up to someone poking him.

"Stop it," he mumbled, rolling over and planting his face in his pillow. "That hurts."

"Young Master Harish must wake up, sir!"

"Stop poking me—"

"Dobby must poke Master Harish, sir, he must wake up!"

Harish opened his eyes. His house-elf, Dobby, was standing to the side of his bed. His hand was clenched around something that was dripping onto the floor.

"Dobby brought this for you!" Dobby said happily, unclenching his hand and holding out something that looked like a dripping pile of worms.

"Is that—?"

"Gillyweed, sir!" Dobby chirped happily. "Master Blake told me to bring it to Master Harish, and Dobby was very glad to bring it, sir, for Master Blake said that you would need it to stay alive!"

Harish took the Gillyweed from Dobby and stuffed it in his pocket.

"How much time have I got? Do you know?"

"Master Harish is having one hour before his task."

Harish breathed a sigh of relief. He would have plenty of time to get down there.

"Thanks, Dobby," he said.

"Master Harish is a good, kind master!" Dobby squeaked happily.

"Yeah, yeah," Harish said as he pulled on a pair of sweat pants under his robes. "Could you help me find my knife I got from Sirius?"

Dobby snapped his fingers and the knife appeared in his hand.

"Here you goes, sir!"

Harish took it and held it in his teeth.

"Fanks," he said again before dashing off down to the lake.

He figured he would need the knife, because he knew it unlocked any lock and he had no idea whether the merpeople would protect the object they stole from him or not.

When he arrived at the lake, he discovered that Krum was already there, wearing a pair of swim trunks. Fleur was not there yet. Harish took off his robes, his socks, and his shoes and stuffed them into his bag. He made sure that the Gillyweed was in the pocket of his sweat pants and took the knife out of his mouth and put it in his other pocket.

"You boys ready?" Bagman asked.

Both Harish and Krum nodded. Fleur showed up a minute later. Bagman then began moving along the champions and spacing them each ten feet apart from the other. Harish held his wand ready as he waited for the task to start.

" _Sonorous_!" Bagman said and his voice boomed across the lake. "Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely one hour to recover what has been taken from them. One…" Harish pulled the Gillyweed out of his pocket. "Two…" he stuffed it in his mouth and began to chew vigorously. It was oddly rubbery. "Three!"

Harish swallowed with much difficulty and began wading into the water, waiting for something to happen. The water was so cold he felt the skin on his leg searing as though it were on fire. He was waist deep when he suddenly realized he couldn't breathe. It felt as though and invisible pillow had been pressed on his nose and mouth. He felt the side of his neck and discovered that he had gills. Without pausing to think, he did the only thing that made sense in that moment—he shoved his wand into his pocket and dove forward into the water.

The first gulp of icy water felt like the breath of life. His head stopped spinning. The teen took another great gulp of water and felt it pass smoothly through his gills, sending oxygen back to his brain. He stretched out his hands in front of him and looked at them. They looked ghostly and green underwater and had become webbed. He twisted around to look at his bare feet—they were webbed too.

The water didn't feel icy anymore, either, Harish realized as he kicked his legs, propelling himself forward with much more thrust than usual. The teen guessed that it was because of the flippers. He also noticed that he could see very clearly and no longer felt the need to blink. Harish soon had swum so far into the lake that he could no longer see the bottom. He flipped over and dove into its depths.

Silence pressed in on his ears as he soared over a strange, dark, and foggy landscape. He could only see about ten feet around him, so that as he sped through the water new scenes seemed to loom suddenly out of the darkness. He swam deeper and deeper, out toward the middle of the lake, his eyes wide and staring through the eerily gray-lit water around him to the shadows beyond where the water became opaque.

Small fish flitted past him like silver darts. Once or twice he thought he saw something larger moving ahead of him, but when he got nearer, he discovered it to be nothing but a large blackened log, or a dense clump of weed. There was no sign of any of the other champions, merpeople, or larger sea creatures.

Light green weed stretched ahead of him as far as he could see, two feet deep, like a meadow of very overgrown grass. Harish was staring ahead of him, trying to discern shapes through the gloom… and then without warning, something grabbed his ankle.

Harish twisted around to see a grindylow, a small, horned water demon, poking out the weed, its long fingers clutching Harish's leg very tightly, its pointed fangs bared. Harish stuck his webbed hand into his pocket and fumbled for his wand. By the time he had grasped it, two more grindylows had risen out of the gloom, seized his trouser legs, and were attempting to drag him down.

" _Relashio!"_ Harish shouted, except no sound came out…A large bubble issued from his mouth and his wand, instead of emitting sparks, released a jet of boiling water that left angry red patches on the grindylows' arms. Harish pulled his ankle out of the grindylow's grip and swam as fast as he could, occasionally sending more jets of boiling water over his shoulder. Every now and then he felt one of the grindylows snatch at his foot again, and he kicked out, hard. He felt his foot connect with a horned skull and turned around to see a dazed grindylow drifting down toward the weeds.

Harish slowed down a little, slipped his wand into his pocket, and looked around, listening again. He turned full circle in the water, the silence pressing harder than ever against his eardrums. He knew he must be even deeper in the lake now, but nothing was moving but the rippling weed.

"How are you getting on?"

Harish thought he was going to have a heart attack. It was a good thing he had gills, because he was sure that if he hadn't, that he would have swallowed a huge mouthful of water. He whipped around and saw Moaning Myrtle floating hazily in front of him, gazing at him through her thick, pearly glasses.

"Myrtle!" Harish exclaimed in surprise, but no sound escaped. Just an especially large bubble. Harish's eyes narrowed in annoyance and made a mental note that he shouldn't try to say anything else. Moaning Myrtle giggled at him.

"You want to try over there!" she said, pointing. "I won't come with you…I don't like them much…"

Harish gave her a thumbs-up to show that he understood what she said, and swam in the direction she had pointed. He was careful to swim a bit higher above the weed to avoid any more grindylows that might be lurking in there.

He swam for what felt like at least twenty minutes. He was passing over vast expanses of black mud now, which swirled murkily as he disturbed the water. Then, at long last, he could hear faint singing.

" _An hour long you have to look,_

 _And recover what we took…"_

Harish swam faster and soon saw a large rock emerge out of the muddy water ahead. It had paintings of merpeople on it; they were carrying spears and chasing what looked like the giant squid. Harish swam on past the rock, following the mersong.

"… _your time's half gone, so tarry not_

 _Lest what you seek stays here to rot…_ "

A cluster of crude stone dwellings stained with algae loomed suddenly out of the gloom on all sides. Here and there at the dark windows, Harish could make out faces. They were gray with dark green hair falling around them. Their eyes were as yellow as their broken teeth, and they wore tick ropes of pebbles around their necks. They leered at Harish as he swam past and he sneered back. One or two of them emerged from their caves to watch him better, their powerful, silver fish tails beating the water, spears clutched in their hands.

Harish sped on, staring around, and soon the dwellings became more numerous; there were gardens of weed around some of them, and he even saw a pet grindylow tied to a stake outside on door. Merpeople were emerging on all sides now, watching him eagerly, pointing at his webbed hands and gills, talking behind their hands to each other. Harish sped around the corner and a very strange sight met his eyes.

A whole crowd of merpeople were floating in front of the houses that lined what looked like an underwater version of a town square. A choir of merpeople were singing in the middle, calling the champions toward them, and behind them rose a crude sort of statue; a gigantic merperson hewn from a boulder. Three people were bound tightly to its stone tail.

On the left was the girl that Krum had taken to the dance, her black locks floating around her face. In between her and a tiny girl with clouds of silvery hair (which Harish guessed must be Fleur's sister) was a boy. His eyes were shut and his blonde hair was loose and swaying in the water. It was Draco. So that was what McGonagall had wanted him for the previous night.

Harish swam forward and took the pocket knife Sirius had given him out of his pocket. He pulled out a sharp knife out of it and hacked the rope that was tied to Draco's ankles. Once he was free, he began floating toward the surface, still appearing to be unconscious.

Harish grabbed him and began to pull him up to the surface. It was very difficult, as Draco was fully clothed and his robes were making him seem twice as heavy as usual, as they were full of water. Harish kicked and kicked, and he looked down and saw that there were no longer webs on his feet. He look up and saw that the surface was no more than ten feet away.

It suddenly became a lot harder to breathe, and Harish was finding that the air was a lot wetter than it had been previously. At five feet to go, Harish felt his neck and discovered that the gills were gone. He held his breath. As the teen's lungs began searing in pain and all of his muscle's began to protest, his head finally broke the surface of the water and he gasped in, cold air filling his lungs. His wet face stung from the sheer coldness of the air. Harish looked around to see that Draco had woken up and was swimming toward the shore.

The crowd in the stands was making a great deal of noise. People were shouting and screaming, they all seemed to be on their feet. Harish clambered out of the water shakily after Draco and Madam Pomfrey bustled over.

"Come here, you," she said, seizing the two boys and pulled them over to where Fleur was sitting, huddled under a blanket. She wrapped them in blankets and forced a measure of a very hot potion down their throats. Steams gushed out of the two teens' ears.

"Gabrielle!" Fleur said to Harish. "My leetle sister! Did you see 'er? Is she all right?"

"She's fine," Harish replied. "I don't think Dumbledore will let any of them drown, don't you worry."

He hoped that this would silence Fleur, but she seemed to be really chatty.

"It was ze grindylows…zey attacked me…"

"Oh, yeah," Harish said. "They attacked me too. I used ' _relashio_.' It worked rather well."

"So did your father send you the Gillyweed?" Draco asked.

"Yes," Harish replied, laughing as he remembered how needlessly worried he had been. "Dobby brought some to me this morning."

"You almost missed ze deadline," Fleur informed him.

"I know," Harish replied. "When I got to where the captives where held, the merpeople were singing about how half of our hour was up. And it took at least five minutes to free Draco."

"Look!" Draco exclaimed. "There's Krum!"

And, sure enough, they could see Krum emerge out of the water. He was helping his girlfriend out of the water, who kept slipping on stones and moss. After they had reached the shore, dozens of merpeople emerged, smiling. Several of them were helping Gabrielle get to shore, as it she was having trouble swimming.

As soon as Fleur spotted her sister, she rushed over and helped her out of the water. Then, she and her sister began gabbing in French. Dumbledore walked over and talked to the chief, a fierce looking mermaid. She was making screeching noises and Dumbledore was talking back and forth with her. It seemed as though Dumbledore could speak Mermish.

Finally, he straightened up, turned to his fellow judges, and said, "A conference before we give the marks, I think."

The judges went into a huddle. Madam Pomfrey had gone over to treat Gabrielle, as she had already given a Pepper-up Potion to Krum and his lady friend.

Bagman's magically magnified voice finally boomed across the lake once more, making all of the champions jump, and causing the crowd in the stands to go very quiet.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchieftaintess Murus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows…

"Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Chard, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points."

All of the students in the stands applauded politely.

"I deserved zero," Fleur said throatily, shaking her silvery hair.

"Harish Blake, who used Gillyweed to great effect, was the first to return with his hostage with only five minutes to spare." Enormous cheers rose from the Slytherin crowd and some other Hogwarts students as well. Draco clapped him on the back. "We award him forty-seven points."

"Finally, Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points."

Karkaroff clapped particularly hard, looking very superior.

"The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June," Bagman continued. "The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions."

Harish smiled, now that the task was finally over. Madam Pomfrey herded all of the champions and their hostages back up to the castle to change into dry clothes. Now Harish had the reassurance that he would be told what was coming in advance for the next task.

Harish walked up to the castle happily and the rest of his friends were waiting on him when he and Draco arrived in the common room. They all happily spoke of a party that the twins were planning on throwing that night. Too bad Harish never made it to the party.

* * *

 **Somewhat cliff-hanger for you :)**

 **TTFN**


	86. Part 6: Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Five: Sick Days**

The evening had started normal enough. Everyone in the Slytherin common room had wanted Harish and Draco to regale the story over and over again. Harish was quite enjoying himself, at first. Then, he started feeling a bit off color. Like that feeling you get when you are beginning to come down with something; feeling bad, but not enough to identify the symptoms. Not wanting to really do anything or move much. Finally, Harish turned Pansy Parkinson down on another account of what had happened, and left the room full of people, saying that he needed air.

Then, he went out to an abandoned courtyard and sat down under a tree. The teen sat there for a while, taking long, deep breaths. Then, Harish lifted a shaky hand and wiped his brow. His hand was wet.

Harish figured that he must have been coming down with some sort of sickness, so he got up and walked slowly toward the Hospital Wing. The more time passed, the worse Harish began to feel, and the longer it seemed it was taking him to get to the Hospital Wing.

Then, Professor McGonagall suddenly walked out in front of him and stopped at the sight of him.

"Mr. Blake?" she asked. "May I help you?"

Harish blinked as the room began swaying. There was a horrible pressure behind his ears and somehow the words McGonagall was saying were not connecting to his brain properly.

Harish tried to tell her that he wasn't feeling well, but nothing but a mumble came out of his mouth.

"Mr. Blake, are you all right?" McGonagall asked.

Darkness closed in on him as his eyes rolled up into his skull and he pitched forward, his mouth foaming.

 _HAWISH? WHAT'S-WRONG-WITH-HAWISH?_

The twins returned from the kitchens loaded down with food, smiling widely.

"The party's here!" they exclaimed as the entrance to the common room was opened.

Everyone else rushed forward, eager to celebrate their champion's achieving first place, but as the twins glanced around the room, they saw that the champion they were celebrating was nowhere to be found.

"Where's Harish?" George asked Fred.

Fred shrugged.

"Have either of you seen Harish?" Daphne asked as they joined the others.

"We thought he was—"

"With all of you guys."

"He left half an hour ago," Hermione said.

"Yeah, he said he needed air," Draco added.

"We thought he went to meet up with you guys, or something," Daphne explained.

"No," both twins replied slowly.

"We haven't seen him," Fred said.

"At all," George added.

"This isn't like him," Daphne pondered aloud.

Everyone else nodded in agreement. It was certainly not like Harish to pass up an opportunity for food and attention.

 _NOT-AT-ALL—NOT-AT-ALL_

"Minerva!" Madam Pomfrey gasped, bustling out of her office.

She had heard the doors to the infirmary open and when she had stuck her head out of the door, she had seen McGonagall with her wand out, hovering a stretcher in front of her. Lying on the stretcher was Harish Blake, who was deathly pale. The mediwitch hurried over and said, "Put him on this bed."

McGonagall did as she was told, transferring Harish from the conjured stretcher to the hospital bed.

"How did he get like this?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

Professor McGonagall explained about how she was leaving her office to send the last few straggling students to their common rooms, as it was almost curfew when Harish had walked up, pale as death and shaking all over. Then, she had proceeded to tell the nurse about how exactly Harish had passed out. While she did this, Madam Pomfrey examined the teen. His breathing was very shallow and his heart was pumping very fast.

"Sounds as if he was poisoned," Madam Pomfrey mused.

"Poisoned?" McGonagall asked in concern. All though Harish was not in her house, he still seemed like a nice boy and she was as concerned for him as she would be for any other student.

The nurse nodded. Then, she went rummaging in a cabinet for a second. Then, she managed to get a bezoar down the boy's throat. As soon as it reached his stomach, Harish began coughing, before falling into a deep sleep. His breathing and heart rate had returned to normal.

"Should I firecall his father?" McGonagall asked.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head.

"He doesn't need to have any visitors tonight. If he doesn't wake by tomorrow morning, I will call his father here. In the meantime, I think his friends and Albus need to be informed."

And she cast a monitoring spell on Harish before bustling out of the infirmary with Professor McGonagall.

 _WORRIED-WORRIED-WORRIED_

Harish woke up with a groan. He blinked his eyes open with much difficulty to see a blurry shape in front of him. A second later, the shape came into focus and Harish realized that it was Madam Pomfrey, her back turned to him, fluffing pillows on an empty bed.

Then, she turned around and caught sight of him looking at her.

"Ah, Mr. Blake!" she exclaimed. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit in the head with a Bludger," Harish replied, his voice sounding odd and scratchy. "What happened to me?"

"I believe you were poisoned," she replied.

"Poisoned?" Harish squawked. Then, as he thought about it, it wasn't all that surprising. He shrugged. It seemed as if someone really had it in for him.

Harish looked down to see that he was wearing a pair of pajamas. He glanced over to see that his wand was sitting on his bedside table. Harish grabbed up and shakily stood up. Searing pain shot up his legs.

"And what do you think _you_ are doing?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

"Going to class!" Harish exclaimed.

"No!" Madam Pomfrey scolded, pushing Harish back down onto the bed by his shoulders. "You need rest! You still need to recover from being sick."

Harish kicked his legs back onto the bed with annoyance, leaned against his pillows, and crossed his arms with a huff.

"Maybe if you agree to be good, I'll send your friends in with some books," she said.

"Fine," Harish said through gritted teeth.

Then Madam Pomfrey insisted he take a Dreamless Sleep Potion before striding away. Harish was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

When he awoke again, he found that he was feeling much better. The teen also made the pleasant discovery of a stack of books sitting on his bedside cabinet. He glanced around. It was dark in the ward and moonlight spilled in from the windows that lined the wall opposite his bed. Harish grabbed his wand and a book, muttering, " _Lumos!_ " His wand lit and he began reading with a sigh. It seemed as though he spent a lot more time in the infirmary than the regular student.

He read for a few hours before falling asleep once again. He awoke the next morning rather late. He had missed breakfast and lunch, but Madam Pomfrey gave him a tray of food. Then, the teen was joined by his friends.

"So, how are you feeling?" Daphne asked him.

"Much better," Harish replied with a smile.

"Do you know what happened to you?" Hermione questioned.

"Well, Madam Pomfrey thinks I was poisoned."

"Poisoned?" they all gasped.

"Yeah," Harish replied. "Someone must have slipped me something the day of the second task at breakfast."

"What exactly happened?" the twins asked.

And Harish gave them his own account of what happened, telling them about how he had started to feel sick but ended up collapsing on McGonagall.

"But…who might have poisoned him?" Draco queried.

"Whoever put his name in the goblet, that's for sure," Fred replied.

"I still wish we knew the motive behind these assassination attempts, as well as who did it," Harish said glumly.

Everyone nodded knowingly and Hermione patted him on the arm.

"Don't worry, Harish," she said. "I am sure we'll catch them eventually."

"Yeah," George said. "We might catch them with a hex or two."

"And force feed them sweets that make their nose bleed so much they die of blood loss!" George proclaimed.

Everyone else made a face and looked at him weird.

"Ugh," Draco said, voicing everyone else's thoughts.

Harish shook his head and smiled.

The next morning, Madam Pomfrey let him go after one more check-up, and Harish dashed to his class. He had a lot of work to make up on, which was not something anyone looked forward to.

* * *

 **TTFN**


	87. Part 6: Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Six: The Return of Padfoot**

There was a lot of speculation that went around the castle while Harish was sick. All of it was about him; wondering where he was, whether he had died, whether he had left the school…When Harish finally _did_ return to school, everyone had gotten him to regale both the second task and his near death experience so many times that he was soon sick of it.

That weekend he spent all of his time catching up on all of the work he had missed. Then, the week after that went by so slow that Harish was sure Saturday would never come.

The Friday before their Hogsmeade weekend, Harish got another short message from Sirius.

 _Be at stile at end of road of Hogsmeade (past Dervish and Banges) at two o'clock on Saturday afternoon. Bring as much food as you can._

"You don't think he's come back to Hogsmeade, do you?" Fred asked over Harish's shoulder. Harish grabbed his school bag, cast a charm on it to keep food fresh, and began piling any food he could grab into the bag.

"It does look like it, doesn't it?" George replied.

"He has," Harish stated after a pause. "My father told him to."

"Your _father_ told him to?" Draco asked, who had been watching their interaction. "Why?"

"He wants someone to keep an eye on me," Harish said.

"And it's a good thing, too," Hermione said. "With yet another attempt to kill you—"

Harish rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, but it's not like he's in the castle. He certainly didn't prevent me from being poisoned."

"Not even Dumbledore could have prevented you from being poisoned," Hermione reasoned. "I mean, how was _Sirius_ supposed to know someone would be slipping _poison_ into your morning pumpkin juice?"

Harish opened his mouth angrily to retort, but Daphne said quite suddenly, "We're going to be late for Potions."

Hermione glanced down at her watch before leaping to her feet, exclaiming, "Holy cricket, we _are_ late!"

And she dashed off. Draco smirked and followed. Daphne gave Harish a smile and was the last to reach their Potions class. They made to the class just before the bell rang and found their seats, panting heavily. Ron shot them glares from across the room and Neville was sitting next to him with a subdued expression on his face.

They copied down the instructions that were on the board and began working on their potions for that day. Nothing unusual, or worth noting at all, happened until a knock sounded on the dungeon door.

"Enter," Snape said.

The class looked around as the door opened. It was very unusual for anyone to interrupt Potions classes. Professor Karkaroff came in. Everyone watched him as he walked up to Snape's desk. He was twisting his finger around his goatee and looking agitated.

"We need to talk," Karkaroff said abruptly when he had reached Snape. He seemed so determined that no one should hear what he was saying, that he was barely moving his lips. Luckily for Harish; Draco, Daphne, and Hermione were sitting at the very front of the room, directly in front of Snape. Most people didn't like being near the man, so that was the only table available as the three Slytherins had come in so late.

Draco tried not to eavesdrop on his godfather, gently chopping his ginger roots, but failed miserably.

"I'll talk to you after my lesson, Karkaroff," Snape muttered, but Karkaroff interrupted him.

"I want you to know now, while you can't slip off, Severus. You've been avoiding me."

"After the lesson," Snape snapped.

Pretending to inspect a measure of armadillo bile, Draco snuck a sidelong glance at the pair of them. Karkaroff looked extremely worried, and Snape looked angry. As the bell rang, Draco knocked Daphne's armadillo bile into the floor and said, "Here, let me clean this up for you!"

"I'll help you!" Daphne exclaimed, and they both grabbed a rag and ducked under their table to listen.

Hermione rolled her eyes and strolled out of the dungeon.

"What's so urgent?" they heard Snape hiss at Karkaroff.

" _This_ ," Karkaroff said, still making every effort not to move his lips. Draco and Daphne both peered up through the legs of their table to see Karkaroff show Snape something on his left forearm. From the angle they were at, they could not tell what it was. But as both were raised in Pureblood families, neither of them had any trouble guessing what it was. The Dark Mark.

"Do you see? It's never been this clear, never since—"

"Put it away!" Snape snarled, his black eyes sweeping the classroom.

"But you must have noticed—" Karkaroff started, sounding even more agitated.

"We can talk later, Karkaroff," Snape spat. "Greengrass, Malfoy, what are you doing?"

Both of them shot up, clutching their bile covered rags.

"Cleaning up my armadillo bile, Professor," Daphne said, smiling innocently.

"And I was helping her," Draco added quickly.

Karkaroff turned on his heel and strode out of the dungeon. He still looked worried, but now was showing traces of anger. Neither of them wanting to be stuck in the room with an exceptionally angry Snape, both Draco and Daphne rushed out to the courtyard to tell Harish all about what they had overheard.

When they did tell him, Harish informed the others about what he and Daphne had overheard at the Yule Ball.

The next day the three sixth years went to another Apparition Lesson before meeting up with the three third years and Ginny, who had been talking about what Harish and Daphne had heard at the Yule Ball. As they walked down to Hogsmeade, Draco asked, "Wait, but what were you two doing there anyway?"

They both blushed, remembering their kiss.

"We just needed to cool off a bit from the dancing," Harish replied awkwardly. They walked in silence and the girls left to go buy more quills while the guys went to buy Quidditch supplies.

"What else happened while you were out there?" Hermione asked Daphne curiously.

Daphne shrugged, flushing deeper.

"You didn't— _kiss_?" Hermione asked.

Daphne nodded. Hermione squealed and hugged her friend.

"So what was it like?" Hermione asked.

"Wonderful," Daphne replied.

The twins wheedled this information out of Harish as well. When they asked him the same question, he replied with, "Well I dunno, I guess—I mean—it was really nice," he finished with a happy sigh.

The twins snorted.

The two groups met up again and Draco and Ginny separated from the group to go to the Three Broomsticks. Hermione went back to the castle, as she had some last minute homework to do. Then, the other four went to the end of the street to meet with Sirius. Towards the end, the cottages began to get fewer and fewer until finally they could see an enormous black dog that was carrying several newspapers in its mouth.

"Hello, Sirius," Harish said quietly when they had reached him.

The black dog sniffed Harish's bag full of food eagerly, wagged its tail once, and then turned away and began to trot away from them across the scrubby patch of ground that rose to meet the foot of the mountain. Harish, the twins, and Daphne climbed over the stile and followed.

Sirius led them to the very foot of the mountain, where the ground was covered with boulders and rocks. It was easy for him, as he was on four legs, but the teens had trouble scrambling up the rocks and were soon out of breath. They followed Sirius higher, up onto the mountain itself. For nearly half an hour they climbed a steep, winding, and stony path, following Sirius's wagging tail. Harish cast a cooling charm on himself and switched his bag to the other shoulder as it started cutting into his skin.

Then, at last, Sirius slipped out of sight, and when they reached the place where he had disappeared, they found a narrow cleft in the rock. The four squeezed into it and found themselves in a cool, dimly lit cave. Tethered at one end of the cave was Buckbeak the hippogriff. During the summer he had stayed in the stables at Slytherin manor. Harish knew that at one point there had been horses there, but they had long since been gone since his ancestors had died out.

The teens bowed to the creature, and after regarding them imperiously for a moment, Buckbeak bent one knee and allowed the twins to step forward slowly and pet his beak. Harish, however, turned to the black dog that had just transformed into his godfather.

Sirius was wearing a set of robes Harish's father had bought for him, but he looked as unshaven and wild as when Harish had first met him other than that; his black hair was longer than it had been when Harish had last spoken to the man, and it was untidy and matted once more. He looked very thin.

"Bacon!" he said hoarsely after removing the old _Daily Prophets_ from his mouth and tossing them aside.

Harish pulled his bag open and handed Sirius fistfuls of bacon, a few chicken legs, and bread.

"Thanks," Sirius said, eating three pieces of bacon at once. "I've been living off rats mostly. Can't steal too much from Hogsmeade without drawing attention to myself."

He grinned at Harish, who grimaced.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Fulfilling my duty as godfather," Sirius said, stripping meat off of a chicken leg with his teeth. "Your father sent me here."

"I know that," Harish protested. "But _why_ did he send you out here? It's not like you are in the castle to watch me."

"You know I can't enter the castle," Sirius said with a hint of exasperation, he had been gnawing on his bone rather like a dog and was now waving around in aggravation. "Imagine if Dumbledore knew I was with you. Imagine if Dumbledore knew who _you_ were! That would be disastrous!"

"I know," Harish grumbled. Sirius threw his bone to Buckbeak, who started crunching on it happily.

"What your father _did_ want me to tell you, after your poisoning and all, is to be careful. I know I told you before, but I am sure that you know understand why I keep telling you."

"Does Father know who is trying to kill me?" Harish asked.

Sirius gestured helplessly.

"All I know is that whoever it is, is inside the castle, as I have told you before."

"So he hasn't told you that he has a hunch, or that he has suspicions of who it may be?"

"Harish," Sirius reminded him. "We are talking about Lord Voldemort. Of _course_ he hasn't told me anything."

"But you have already told me all of this. Why did you bring me here to tell me again?"

"I am afraid of our mail being intercepted. I wanted to talk in private, where there is no chance of anyone overhearing or anything. With the last letter you sent me—and then of course you being in the Hospital Wing—things are getting fishier. I've been stealing the paper every time someone throws one out, and by the looks of things, we aren't the only ones who are worried."

"You and my father, you mean?" Harish asked, glancing at the pile of yellowing papers that Sirius pointed to.

Daphne, who had already noticed the papers, was reading through a few of them.

"That would be correct," Sirius replied with a smile.

"So did you tell him about what I told you? About Jugson?"

"Yes, I did," Sirius replied. "He seemed rather concerned. As you know, Jugson is a Death Eater, and Voldemort is quite certain that he did not send the man to the castle."

Suddenly, Daphne interrupted their conversation by saying, "They make it sound as though he's dying!"

"Who?" Harish and the twins asked together.

"Barty Crouch," Daphne replied. Harish noticed that Sirius was peering at her, trying to figure out who she was.

"Oh, Sirius, this is Daphne Greengrass," Harish said, knowing that the two had not been formally introduced. "Daphne, this is Sirius Black, my godfather."

"Pleased to meet you," Daphne said politely before returning to her newspaper.

"The pleasure is all mine, really," Sirius said with a wide smile. He shot Harish an approving look. Harish shook his head.

Meanwhile, the twins were asking Daphne, "What do you mean?"

"Look," she said, handing the paper to them. Harish moved over to look at it over their shoulders.

As Harish scanned the story, phrases like " _hasn't been seen in public since November…house appears deserted…St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries decline comment…Ministry refuses to confirm rumors of critical illness"_ jumped out at him.

"Our brother is Crouch's assistant," George said absently.

"He says Crouch is suffering from overwork," Fred informed them.

"Mind you, he _did_ look ill last time I saw him up close," Harish said slowly, still reading through the article as well. "It was the night the champions' names came out of the Goblet of Fire…"

Harish finished the article and after the twins had as well, they set the paper down among all of the old _Daily Prophets_. Then, Harish muttered, "Still doesn't explain who's trying to have me killed."

"Or how Jugson got into the castle," Sirius said, agreeing with his godson. There was a moment of silence while everyone thought. Then, Sirius broke it by saying, "You four had better return to the castle before you are missed." He turned to Harish and addressed him directly, "I will be staying here until the end of the year. If you have an urgent message, owl me but don't use the same owl every time."

Harish nodded and the four of them squeezed out of the cave, heading back down the mountain. Sirius followed them as a dog. The trip down the mountainside was much faster than the trip up. Soon they were walking across the bounder strewn ground, back to the stile. Here, Sirius allowed each of them to pat him on the head. Before turning and setting off at a run around the outskirts of the village. Harish, the twins, and Daphne made their way back into Hogsmeade and up toward Hogwarts.

"I wonder if Percy's seen Crouch at all recently," Fred mused.

"You could always send him a letter and ask," Harish suggested.

"Yeah," George agreed. "That's a great idea. How about we do that now?"

They walked up the stone steps into the entrance hall, where the delicious smells of dinner wafted toward them from the Great Hall.

"Poor old Snuffles," George said, breathing in the smell deeply. "He must really like you, Harish."

"Imagine having to live off of rats."

Harish and Daphne both shook their heads, before they caught each other's eyes and grinned.

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	88. Part 6: Chapter 27

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Seven: Concerns with Crouch**

The twins went down to the common room to write a letter to their brother while Harish and Daphne headed inside the Great Hall and found their other friends already seated at dinner. Harish quietly told Draco, Ginny, and Hermione what they had talked about and where the twins were.

The next day, Harish and the others agreed that they should send food to Sirius by owl. So, Harish and the twins went down to the kitchen later that day. Harish tickled the pear on the tapestry and it giggled, hardening into a handle. Harish turned the handle to see house elves all around, bowing and curtsying and bustling around making tea.

"No chance of any chocolates, is there?" the twins asked.

Soon, a platter of chocolates was zooming toward the three teens, supported by four house elves.

"Come on guys, we need to get stuff for Sirius," Harish said. The twins nodded, stuffing what chocolates they couldn't fit in their mouths into their pockets. Harish shook his head before turning to the elves and asking, "Could we have some extra food?"

They bowed delightedly and hurried off to get some more food. Harish glanced around the kitchen as a pudding was stuffed into his hands. Immediately one house elf stood out. Instead of wearing pristine white towels, like the rest of the Hogwarts elves wore, this one wore clothes that were so ragged, that they blended in with the blackened chimney behind it. The house-elf sat on a stool in front of the fire, surrounded by butterbeer bottles. Harish walked over in disgust, and realized a second later that it was Crouch's old elf, Winky.

Harish turned to call the twins over, only to discover that they had followed him. He then turned back to Winky. She was clutching a butterbeer, swaying, and staring into the fire. As they watched her, she gave an enormous hiccup. Winky hiccupped again and the elves that had brought the chocolates gave her disapproving looks as they returned to work.

"Hey Winky," Harish said, struck by a sudden realization. "you don't know what Mr. Crouch might be up to, do you? Because he's stopped turning up to judge the Triwizard Tournament."

Winky's eyes flickered. Her enormous pupils focused on Harish. She swayed slightly again and then said, "M-Master is stopped— _hic_ —coming?"

"Yeah," Harish replied. "We haven't seen him since the first task. The _Daily Prophet_ is saying that he is ill."

Winky swayed some more, staring blurrily at Harish.

"Master— _hic_ —ill?"

Her bottom lip began to tremble.

"Master is needing his— _hic_ —Winky! Master cannot— _hic_ —manage— _hic_ —all by himself…"

"Well, I'm sure he is managing his housework fine," Harish said.

"Winky _—hic—_ is not only— _hic_ —doing housework for Mr. Crouch!" Winky squeaked indignantly. That was the response Harish had hoped for. "Master is— _hic_ —trusting Winky with _—hic_ —the most important— _hic_ —the most secret—"

"What?" the twins asked in unison.

Winky shook her head very hard, spilling butterbeer on herself. Harish shot them a glare. She had almost told them.

"Winky keeps— _hic_ —her master's secrets," she said mutinously, swaying very heavily now, frowning up at the redheads with her eyes crossed. "You is— _hic_ —nosing, you is."

Harish, who found himself losing patience, snapped, "Wizards don't nose! Mr. Crouch is no longer your master. Since you work here, _we_ are your masters! I _order_ you to tell us what secrets!"

"You is nosing— _hic_ —into master's— _hic_ —private and secret— _hic_ —Winky keeps her silence— _hic_ —Winky is a good house elf— _hic_ —people trying to— _hic_ —pry and poke— _hic_ —"

Winky's eyelids drooped and suddenly, without warning, she slid off her stool into the hearth, snoring loudly. The empty bottle of butterbeer rolled away across the stone-flagged floor. Half a dozen house-elves hurried forward, looking disgusted. One of them picked up the bottle; the others covered Winky with a large checked tablecloth and tucked the ends in neatly, hiding her from view.

"We is sorry you had to see that, sirs!" a nearby elf squeaked, shaking his head and looking very ashamed. "We is hoping you will not judge us all by Winky, sirs!"

"What is she doing here?" Harish asked. "Obviously she isn't doing any work."

"Master Dumbledore hired her out of pity, sirs," another elf told them. "But she is drinking too many butterbeers to be working, sirs. House-elves have no right to be unhappy when there is work to be done and masters to be served!"

All of the other elves nodded in agreement.

"It's all right," Harish said finally. "You all do plenty of good work to make up for it."

"Thank you, sir!" they all chimed. Harish had more food stuffed into his hands.

"Well," he finally said. "We need to be off."

"Goodbye!" several of them squeaked. Harish left and he and the twins went straight up to the Owlry.

"That was no use," Harish finally said as he sent a whole ham off with two owls.

The twins nodded. Harish leaned forward and looked out of the window, watching Hagrid dig around in a patch of ground in front of his cabin.

"It's too bad too," Fred said.

"We could have gotten good stuff about Crouch," George continued for him.

"If Winky had only not fainted after you ordered her to talk."

Harish nodded and turned away from the window.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go down."

So the three of them went down to the common room.

As the days passed, each growing closer to the Easter holidays, more and more work was piled on top of them. The fourth years were preparing to take OWL's the next year and the sixth years were preparing to take NEWT's in their next year, though Harish was seriously debating on whether he should return or not. It all depended on whether he won the tournament, which he had little doubt of doing so, and whether Voldemort started the war up before the school year started again.

The start of April came and went. On the first the twins turned seventeen. Harish normally enjoyed seeing them celebrate their birthday, but this year he found it very hard to enjoy. Although it reminded him that he would be turning seventeen last, he forced himself to put on a smile and enjoy the day for their sakes. As it got later into April, each Saturday they increased the distance between them and their hoops, preparing almost everyone for the Apparition Tests.

Between that and the mounds of homework, Harish found time to send food to Sirius at least once a week. Although he had never been properly hungry in his life, the reason he kept sending food was because he didn't want to imagine it. With every package of food, he also enclosed notes to Sirius, telling him that all was well, and that they were still waiting for an answer from Percy.

Hedwig didn't return until the end of the Easter holidays. Percy's letter was enclosed in a package of Easter eggs that Mrs. Weasley had sent. Harish, the twins, Hermione, Ginny, and Daphne all received ones that were as big as dragon eggs and full of homemade toffee. Draco received one as well, but it was smaller than a chicken egg. His face fell when he saw the others.

Then, he shrugged and said, "It's surprising I received one at all."

"My dad probably convinced her to do it," Ginny said. "Since she sent one to everyone else, it would have seemed rude if you hadn't received one."

He nodded.

Meanwhile, Harish had opened the letter from Percy and was reading it. It was short and irritated.

 _As I am constantly telling the_ Daily Prophet _, Mr. Crouch is taking a well-deserved break. He is sending in regular owls with instructions. No, I haven't actually seen him, but I think I can be trusted to know my own superior's handwriting. I have quite enough to do at the moment without trying to quash these ridiculous rumors. Please don't bother me again unless it's something important. Happy Easter._

On the first week of May came the Apparition Tests, that both twins passed very well. That day there were only three or four students in each of the classes, so Harish had extra time to do homework. Although Harish didn't take the test, he congratulated them for their achievement.

The start of the summer term would normally have meant that Harish was training hard for the last Quidditch match of the season. This year, however, it was the third and final task in the Triwizard Tournament for which he needed to prepare, but he still didn't know what he would have to do. Finally, in the last week of May, Professor McGonagall held him back in Transfiguration.

"You are to go down to the Quidditch field tonight at nine o'clock, Blake," she told him. "Mr. Bagman will be there to tell the champions about the third task."

Harish winced. They had been practicing human transfiguration that day and George, who had been Harish's partner, had not properly changed Harish back from a dog. He looked completely human, but he had a hunch that his senses were still slightly off. Everything seemed too loud to be normal. Harish intended to go to Madam Pomfrey after he went to the Quidditch field, if his senses still didn't seem right.

At half past eight that night, Harish left the others in the common room and went upstairs. He crossed the empty entrance hall and exited the building. He walked down the dark lawn to the Quidditch stadium, turned through a gap in the stands, and walked out onto the field.

Instantly, Harish stopped and his jaw dropped.

The Quidditch field was no longer smooth and flat. It looked as though someone had been building long, low walls all over it that twisted and crisscrossed in every direction.

Harish bent over the nearest one and realized they were hedges.

"Hello there!" a cheery voice called. Harish heard the as clearly as if its owner was standing right next to him.

But the voice's owner wasn't. Ludo Bagman was standing in the middle of the field with Krum and Fleur. Harish made his way toward them, climbing over the hedges. Fleur smiled at him briefly and Krum looked as excited as ever—or really as bored as ever.

"Well, what d'you think?" Bagman asked happily as Harish climbed over the last hedge. "Growing nicely, aren't they? Give them a month and Hagrid'll have them twenty feet high. Don't worry," he added, grinning, as he noticed the less-than-happy expression on Harish's face, "you'll have your Quidditch field back to normal once the task is over! Now, I imagine you can guess what we're making here?"

No one spoke for a moment. Then—

"Maze," Krum grunted.

"That's right!" Bagman said loudly, causing Harish to cringe. "A maze. The third task's really very straightforward. The Triwizard Cup will be placed in the center of the maze. The first champion to touch it will receive full marks."

"We seemply 'ave to get through the maze?" Fleur asked.

"There will be obstacles," Bagman replied happily, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Hagrid is providing a number of creatures…then there will be spells that must be broken…all that sort of thing, you know. Now, the champions will enter the maze in order of how many points they have. So Mr. Blake will have a head start into the maze," Bagman grinned at Harish. "Then Mr. Krum will enter…then Miss Delacour. But you'll be in with a fighting chance, depending on how well you get past the obstacles. Should be fun, eh?"

All of them nodded politely.

"Very well…if you haven't got any questions, we'll go back up to the castle, shall we, it's a bit chilly…"

They then made their way out of the stadium. Fleur walked briskly, taking long strides to get back to the Beauxbatons carriage. Bagman was behind her and Harish and Krum walked behind him. Harish headed directly for the castle, and Krum walked with him.

"You fly very vell," he said, breaking the silence. "I vos votching at the first task."

"Thanks," Harish replied. "I saw you at the Quidditch Cup. The Wronski Feint, you really—" he paused very suddenly and cocked his head.

"Vot is it?" Krum asked.

"I hear something," Harish replied, listening. It sounded as though someone was staggering around the woods. He could hear twigs snapping and low mumbling, but he couldn't make out any words.

"You look like a dog," Krum pointed out.

"I know," Harish said with a scowl. "George didn't transfigure me back properly."

Then he froze as he heard more crashing coming from the woods.

"Stay here," he said, turning toward the woods.

The teen made his way over to the edge of the forest cautiously to see someone moving within the trees. Krum followed with curiousity. Harish drew his wand and edged forward, motioning for Krum to be quiet.

Suddenly a man staggered out from behind a tall oak. For a moment, Harish didn't recognize him…then he realized it was Mr. Crouch.

He looked as though he had been traveling for days. The knees of his robes were ripped and bloody, his face scratched; he was unshaven and gray with exhaustion. His usually neat hair and mustache were both in need of a wash and a trim. His strange appearance, however, was nothing to the way he was behaving. Muttering and gesticulating, Crouch appeared to be talking to someone that he alone could see.

"Vosn't he a judge?" Krum asked, staring at Mr. Crouch. "Isn't he vith your Ministry?"

Harish nodded, hesitated for a moment, then walked slowly toward Crouch, who did not look at him, but continued to talk to a nearby tree.

"…and when you've done that, Weatherby, send an owl to Dumbledore confirming the number of Durmstrang students who will be attending the tournament, Karkaroff has just sent word there will be twelve…"

"Mr. Crouch?" Harish asked. His voice was tinted with both caution and curiosity.

"…and then send another to Madame Maxime, because she might want to up the number of students she's bringing, now Karkaroff's made it a round dozen…do that, Weatherby, will you? Will you? Will…"

Crouch's eyes were bulging. He stood staring at the tree, muttering soundlessly at it. Then, he staggered sideways and fell to his knees.

"Mr. Crouch?" Harish repeated.

"Vot is going on?" Krum asked quietly.

"That's what I want to know," Harish replied.

Mr. Crouch's eyes were now rolling in his head. Harish looked at Krum, who was looking down at Crouch in alarm.

"Vot is wrong vith him?"

Harish was starting to feel annoyed.

"No idea," he said calmly. His voice betrayed no impatience. "Maybe one of us should go get someone—"

"Dumbledore!" Mr. Crouch gasped. He reached out and seized a fistful of Harish's robes, dragging him closer, though his eyes were staring over Harish's head. "I need…see…Dumbledore…"

"God his grip is tight," Harish muttered as he tried to pull himself away from Crouch.

"I've done…stupid…thing…" Mr. Crouch breathed. He looked utterly mad. His eyes were rolling and bulging, and a trickle of spittle was sliding down his chin. Every word he spoke seemed to cost him a terrible effort. "Must…tell…Dumbledore…"

"Well get up," Harish said loudly. "I can't move with you on me!"

Crouch's eyes rolled forward onto Harish.

"Who…you?" he whispered.

"I'm a student at the school," Harish said, looking around at Krum for some help, but Krum was hanging back.

"You're not… _his_?" Crouch whispered, his mouth sagging.

"No," he said without the faintest idea what the man was talking about.

"Dumbledore's?"

"That's right," Harish replied.

Crouch was pulling him closer; Harish tried to loosen Crouch's grip on his robes, but it was too powerful.

"Warn…Dumbledore…"

"I'll get Dumbledore if you let go of me," Harish said.

"Thank you, Weatherby, and when you have done that, I would like a cup of tea. My wife and son will be arriving shortly, we are attending a concert tonight with Mr. and Mrs. Fudge."

Crouch was now talking fluently to a tree again, and seemed completely unaware that Harish was there, which surprised Harish so much he didn't notice that Crouch had released him.

"Yes, my son has recently gained twelve OWL's, most satisfactory, yes, thank you, yes, very proud indeed. How, if you could bring me that memo from the Andorran Minister of Magic, I think I will have time to draft a response…."

Not sure what to do and not wanting to leave a clearly insane Barty Crouch with Krum, Harish sent a patronus to Dumbledore, hoping the man would get there soon.

"He is mad," Krum muttered, staring incredulously at Crouch, who was still gabbling to the tree, apparently convinced it was Percy.

Harish stood up and noticed that it was growing dark. His movement seemed to trigger another abrupt change in Mr. Crouch, who seized him hard around the knees and pulled Harish back to the ground.

"Don't…leave…me!" he whispered, his eyes bulging again. "I…escaped…must warn…must tell…see Dumbledore…my fault…all my fault…Bertha…betrayed…all my fault…my son…my fault…tell Dumbledore…Harry Potter…not dead…the Dark Lord…returns…Neville Longbottom…"

Harish stared at the man incredulously. How did he know that Harry Potter wasn't dead? And how did he know that Voldemort was planning a return? This was very bad. Dumbledore couldn't know that!

Harish glanced up at the table to see several dark figures come out of the castle. Krum turned and looked as well. Then, Harish realized that it was unnaturally silent. He turned back to see that there was no sign of Mr. Crouch.

"Where did he go?" he asked rather loudly.

Krum turned back as well to see that Crouch had disappeared.

A minute later, Dumbledore appeared out of the now darkened grounds. He could hear a muttered, _"Lumos_ ," and suddenly a light was shining in his face.

"What is this, Harish, my boy? What is going on?"

"I-I don't know, Professor," Harish said.

"Where is Crouch?" asked another voice. Harish peered beside Dumbledore, but couldn't make anyone out. Because of the light shining in his face, all he could see was the silhouettes of two men.

"I don't know," Harish replied. "He was just here, but—"

"He disappeared," Krum said. "He vos going on, talking to a tree and ve turned to look at the castle—"

"And when we looked back, he was gone!"

Dumbledore marched forward, holding out his wand. He lit up the trees in the general area, but no man was in sight.

"He really was here," Harish said.

Dumbledore looked at him over his half-moon spectacles for a long moment before saying, "I believe you. What did he say?"

"It was kind of hard to make out," Harish replied. "Something about something being his fault, his son, Bertha Jorkins…oh, and he kept asking for you."

Dumbledore looked very concerned for a moment. Then, the emotions cleared from his face, he turned toward Hagrid's cabin, and sent off a patronus. The sound of thunderous footfalls reached them a few minutes later, and Hagrid came panting into sight with Fang at his heels. He was carrying a crossbow.

"Perfessor Dumbledore?" he asked, his eyes widening. "Harish—what the—?"

Hagrid, I need you to fetch Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore said. "His student is out here with us. When you've done that, kindly alert Professor Moody—"

"No need, Dumbledore," said a wheezy growl. "I'm here."

Moody was limping toward them, leaning on his staff, his wand lit.

"I heard a commotion and saw you leaving the castle." He informed them. "What's happened? Snape said something about Crouch—"

"Crouch?" Hagrid asked blankly.

"Karkaroff, please, Hagrid!" Dumbledore said sharply.

"Oh yeah…right y'are Perfessor…" and he turned and disappeared among the dark trees, Fang trotting after him.

"I don't know where Barty Crouch is," Dumbledore told Moody, "but it is essential that we find him."

"I'm onto it," Moody growled, and he limped away into the forest.

No one spoke and the forest remained silent until Harish could heard Hagrid and Karkaroff growing nearer. Soon they could see Karkaroff hurrying toward them. He was wearing sleek furs, and he looked pale and agitated.

"What is this?" he cried when he saw Krum, Harish, and Dumbledore. "What's going on?"

"We have a stray student of yours, Igor," Dumbledore replied. "He may need some hot chocolate, he and Harish here had a rather nerve wracking experience."

Then he turned to Hagrid.

"Please take Harish up to the castle, Hagrid," he said.

Hagrid nodded, placing a giant hand on Harish's back and steering him to the castle.

"I'll leave Fang with yeh, Headmaster," Hagrid said. "Stay Fang. C'mon, Harish."

The marched in silence for a while. Then, once they reached the castle, Harish asked, "Can I go to the Hospital Wing?"

"What fer?" Hagrid asked.

"I don't think George transfigured me back from a dog properly in class today," he replied. "That's why I heard Crouch from where I was."

Hagrid nodded and said, "I'll take yeh there."

Once they arrived in the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey asked, "What have you done this time?"

Harish explained to her his predicament and she scanned him. Sure enough, his senses were still dog-like and she fixed that within seconds. Then, Hagrid took him to the Slytherin common room. Harish bid him a polite goodnight at the entrance to the dungeons, and hurried into the common room to tell the others what happened.

* * *

 **~TfTn**


	89. Part 6: Chapter 28

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Eight: Overprotective Godfathers…and Fathers**

While Harish was still wondering about Crouch and Jugson, the twins were still trying to get their money back from Bagman. He seemed to be full on avoiding them and Harish had even noticed how fast he had left the stadium, so that he wouldn't be stuck with Harish alone.

Now, as it had been several months, the twins were debating on sending a letter to Bagman, demanding that they receive the money he owed them. It was rather annoying really. At first they had thought that perhaps Bagman had made a mistake, but now it was very clear that there had been no mistake.

So when Harish went up to the Owlry early the next morning to send a letter to Sirius about the previous night's events, the twins followed, still arguing about whether they should send the letter saying that they were going to go to the Ministry if they didn't get their money they had won. Fred was saying that it was blackmail, but since it was George's idea, he was trying to convince his twin to let him send it:

"—that's blackmail, that is," Fred protested, "we could get into a lot of trouble for that—"

"We've tried being polite; it's time to play dirty, like him," George reasoned. "He wouldn't like the Ministry of Magic knowing what he did—"

"I'm telling you, if you put that in writing, it's blackmail!" Fred exclaimed.

"Yeah, and you won't be complaining if we get a nice fat payoff, will you?"

Harish shook his head and opened the door to the Owlry. He froze once he entered, causing the twins to run straight into him. Already in the Owlry, standing by the window, were Ron and Neville. Ron had sent a letter to Percy, asking about Crouch. He had just heard that Crouch had been missing from work, but he didn't yet know that Crouch had been on the grounds.

"What're you doing here?" Ron and Fred asked at the same time.

"Sending a letter," George and Neville replied in unison.

"What, at this time?" Harish and Ron asked.

Fred grinned.

"Fine—we won't ask you what you're doing, if you don't ask us," he said.

He was holding up the sealed envelope that held their letter to Bagman. As the Slytherin caught his brother and Neville looking at it, he moved his hand to cover up the name it was addressed to. Harish did the same with his own letter, though he had written _Snuffles_ as the receiving address.

"Well, don't let us hold you up," Fred said with a mock bow and pointing at the door.

Ron didn't move. Instead, he asked, "Who're you blackmailing?"

The grin vanished from Fred's face. George half glanced at his twin, before smiling. Harish made sure that he busied himself with attaching his letter to a Great Grey's leg. He didn't want to be caught up in this.

"Don't be stupid, Fred and I were only joking," he said easily.

"Didn't sound like that," Ron said.

Harish moved to a window and let the owl fly off before turning back to the others. The twins looked at each other. Then, Fred said abruptly, "I've told you before, Ron, keep your nose out if you like the shape it is. Can't see why you would, but—"

"It's my business if you're blackmailing someone," Ron replied. "You were right, you two could end up in serious trouble for that."

"Like you would care," George sneered.

"Besides," Fred added. "George told you we were joking."

George walked over, pulled the letter out of Fred's hands, and began attaching it to the leg of the nearest barn owl. "You're starting to sound a bit like our dear older brother, you are, Ron," he said. "Carry on like this and you'll be made a prefect."

"No, I won't!" Ron said hotly.

George carried the barn owl over to the window and it took off. George turned around and grinned at Ron.

"Well, stop telling people what to do, then. See you later."

"Or hopefully not at all," Fred added.

The two of them left and Harish followed. Once they were gone, Ron and Neville turned to each other.

"You don't think they know something about Crouch, do you?" Neville asked. "Would they tell someone if they did?"

"I dunno if they would," Ron replied dully. "They're kind of obsessed with making money recently. I noticed it this summer, when Blake was over."

"Yeah, but blackmail…?"

"It's this joke shop idea they've got," Ron replied. "At first I thought they were doing it to annoy Mum, but they really mean it, they want to start one. They've only got a year left of Hogwarts, and they keep going on about how it's time to think about their future; Dad can't help them, and they need gold to get started."

"They wouldn't do anything against the law, would they?" Neville asked.

"Wouldn't they?" Ron repeated, looking skeptical. "I dunno…they don't exactly mind breaking the rules, do they?"

"Maybe you should tell Percy," Neville suggested.

"Are you kidding?" Ron asked. "Percy would probably do a Crouch and turn them in."

"But I thought you didn't like them," Neville replied, confused. "I thought you said that they were going to join the Dark Side?"

Ron looked uncomfortable.

"Yeah, but I don't want them to…to go to prison…"

Meanwhile, the twins and Harish were making their way down to the dungeons. The twins were muttering angrily as they went, occasionally kicking things. Harish followed silently, pondering Ron and Neville.

"—he ought to keep his nose where it belongs—" Fred muttered angrily.

Harish knew that Neville would be valuable to their side, as Dumbledore was making plans for him, but Neville was too busy following Ron.

"—imagine, him telling _us_ what to do!" George exclaimed.

Ron was obviously against the twins, and therefore against Harish, which meant that Neville was against them as well.

"Nosy brat..."

The only way to gain Neville's allegiance would be to split them up, which would require Ron acting more like a turd than usual.

"Bossy fourth year…"

But it also meant that Harish himself would need to act nice to Neville in order to lure him in, not unlike the way he had treated Hermione in her first year.

The twins fell silent and Harish's thoughts were interrupted as they finally reached the common room. Once inside, they found Draco, Ginny, Hermione, and Daphne. Harish sat down and explained to them why the twins were so angry.

Then, Draco said, "You told us about what happened in the forest, but you haven't told us what the third task is going to be."

"Oh, that?" Harish asked. "It's just a maze with obstacles and things."

"That should be right up your alley, then," George said.

"Yeah, we had to get past several obstacles to get the stone," Fred added.

Harish nodded.

"That's why I haven't really worried about it much," he said.

"You should still practice," Hermione protested. "Make sure you know plenty of spells."

"All right," Harish grumbled. He probably needed a spell that would help him find his way in the maze, anyway.

Sirius sent their owl back the next morning. It fluttered down beside Harish at the same moment a tawny owl landed with the _Prophet_. While Harish took off the letter from Sirius, Daphne grabbed the newspaper. She scanned the paper and exclaimed, "Ha! Rita Skeeter hasn't gotten wind of Crouch!" and then turned to watch Harish read the letter from Sirius, the twins leaning over his shoulders trying to read as well.

 _Harry—what do you think you are playing at, walking off into the forest with Viktor Krum? I want you to swear, by return owl, that you are not going to go walking with anyone else at night. There is someone highly dangerous at Hogwarts. It is clear to me that they wanted to stop Crouch from seeing Dumbledore (and I know that this may mean that they could be on our side, but we can't chance it.) and you were probably feet away from them in the dark. You could have been killed._

 _Your name didn't get into the Goblet of Fire by accident, and you definitely were not sent to the Hospital Wing accidently either! Whoever is trying to attack you, this is their last chance. Stay close to your friends and do not leave the castle alone, especially not after hours. Arm yourself for the third task. Practice Stunning and Disarming. A few hexes wouldn't go amiss either. There's nothing you can do about Crouch or Jugson. Keep your head down and look after yourself. I'm waiting for your letter giving me your word you won't stray out of bounds again._

 _-Sirius._

"We were _supposed_ to be out of the castle!" Harish exclaimed in indignation. "And it's not like I just wandered off with Krum—I told him to stay put!"

"He's worried about you!" Hermione said sharply. "Just like your father and all of us! So listen to them!"

"No one's managed to kill me yet!" Harish protested.

"Which is exactly why they will most likely try again before the year is out," Hermione replied, sticking her nose in the air.

Harish floundered, his mouth opening and closing, trying to find a good comeback. He looked at the twins for help.

George held up his hands, saying, "Leave me out of this, mate."

When Harish looked at Fred, he replied, "Hermione's right. You need to watch yourself."

"Fine," Harish snapped angrily, rummaging in his bag for a quill to reply with. "I won't be needing to leave the castle anyway."

He jotted down a note quickly before sending it off with the owl. Then, he crossed his arms and asked, "Happy?"

"Yes," everyone else said.

Harish growled.

To Hermione and Daphne's insistence, he found a disused classroom and practiced all the spells Sirius had mentioned. Then, he looked up a charm that would help him get through the maze. The incantation was "Point me," and it was supposed to point the direction he told it to. He figured out that from where they would start, the cup would be north. Therefore, all he had to say was, "Point me, north," and he would know he was heading the right direction.

He also looked up a few hexes that would help him that they hadn't learned in class, such as the Impediment Curse that was supposed to slow an object down.

And he was checking his drink every meal to make sure it hadn't been poisoned. Harish thought that maybe he should take a leaf out of Moody's book and only drink out of a personal flask. But, of course, Harish had no need to be _that_ paranoid—yet. He decided that he would start doing that if he found poison in his drink again.

Somehow Harish knew that the man wouldn't be trying that again, however. The first time, he had cast a spell from behind him. Whatever spell it was, wasn't supposed to kill him but send a message to Voldemort (which Voldemort received loud and clear). The second time the attacker had tried a different approach by poisoning Harish. Harish could feel in his gut that the attacker was going to try one last technique before the year was out.

This put Harish on edge and, as he was practicing more and more for the third task, he began to neglect his studies once again. It was much like in his fourth year when the school was being attacked—the only difference this time was that Harish was the sole target of these attacks, making it even worse.

And Harish was not the only one on edge. Dumbledore saw the signs and was clearly suspecting that Voldemort was planning a return. This was why he could be seen a few days after Crouch's sudden appearance and disappearance at the castle, talking to the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. But Fudge did not take Dumbledore's warnings well.

"I am afraid, Dumbledore, that I fail to see what you are saying!" Fudge said. "I do not see what the disappearance of Barty Crouch has to do with You-Know-Who!"

"And what _do_ you think happened to Barty Crouch, Minister?" Moody growled.

"I see two possibilities, Alastor," Fudge replied. "Either Crouch has finally cracked—more than likely, I'm sure you'll agree, given his personal history—lost his mind, and gone off wandering somewhere—"

"He wandered extremely quickly, if that is the case, Cornelius," Dumbledore said calmly.

"Or else—well…" Fudge seemed embarrassed. "Well, I'll reserve judgement until after I've seen the place where he was found, but you say it was just past the Beauxbatons carriage? Dumbledore, do you know what that woman _is_?"

"I consider her to be a very able headmistress—and an excellent dancer," Dumbledore replied quietly.

"Dumbledore come!" Fudge reasoned angrily. "Don't you think you might be prejudiced in her favour because of Hagrid? They don't all turn out harmless—if, indeed, you can call Hagrid harmless, with that monster fixation he's got—"

"Why don't you ask the eye witness we have?" Moody growled. "After all it would be rather hard to not to spot either of them."

"Who?" Fudge asked. "Who was there?"

"Harish Blake," Dumbledore replied.

"Ah!" Fudge exclaimed. "Let's bring him here then! I'm sure that young man could clear this matter up! Then you and I can go look down at the grounds!"

Dumbledore looked pained, most likely because he did not want to pull a student out of class. But, wishing to convince the Minister that Voldemort really was returning, Dumbledore decided to humor him by summoning the boy.

"Please go get Harish Blake," Dumbledore said, turning to Moody.

"All right, Headmaster," Moody growled, and he stumped out of the office.

The two men of power listened as the tell-tale _clunk, clunk, clunk_ of Moody's wooden leg faded away. Then, after at least ten minutes, the noise returned, accompanied by an extra pair of feet. Harish walked into the circular office, glancing around, followed by Moody. Moody then stopped at the back of the room and leaned back against the wall, one arm draped over his staff.

"I assume you know Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, Harish?" Dumbledore asked as Harish came to a stop beside the Minister.

Harish nodded and then said, "If you don't mind me asking, sir, why am I here?"

"Cornelius would like to ask you a few questions about the day you found Mr. Crouch."

Harish nodded and looked questioningly at the Minister.

Fudge then asked, "What did Crouch do? Did he say anything to you?"

"Well," Harish replied slowly. "At first he kept talking to a tree, convinced it was Percy Weasley. He kept giving Percy orders and sounded as though he thought his wife and son were still alive. Then he suddenly grabbed me and started going on about how he had to see Dumbledore. He mentioned something about his son, Bertha Jorkins, and Neville Longbottom, saying it was all his fault. It was really hard to understand, really. And then he started going on about how he escaped from something—or someone, I guess."

"What did he look like?"

"Like he had been wandering the woods for days. He was all scratched up and unshaven."

"And did you see anyone else there?"

"No, sir," Harish replied. "Just me, Viktor Krum, and Mr. Crouch."

"Very well," Fudge replied heavily. "Dumbledore? If we could see where he was found, now…?"

"Of course," Dumbledore replied, still looking at Harish. Harish felt quite unnerved. "Mr. Blake, you are free to go."

Harish nodded and back out of the office. Then, he went down to the common room, as there wasn't much time left in class.

* * *

 **TTFN**


	90. Part 6: Chapter 29

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Nine: Of Sphinxes and Mazes**

The first thing Harish did when he returned to the common room was write a letter to his father, before running up to the Owlry and sending it off. When he returned to the dungeons, the others were there as their classes had let out.

"Harish!" the twins called, waving him over.

"Why did you leave—"

"In the middle of class?"

"I had to speak to the Minister about what happened the other night…" and he told them about his most recent encounter with Dumbledore.

Finally Draco asked, "But, I don't understand…Why is this such a bad thing?"

"Because!" Harish exclaimed, hopping up and pacing up and down in front of the couch where the others were sitting. "If Dumbledore is having meetings with the Minister of Magic about these things…it means he knows, or at least suspects, that my father is returning to the Wizarding World."

No one said anything as this statement sunk in.

The mood in the castle became excited and tense as May turned into June. Everyone was looking forward to the third task, which would take place one week before the end of term. Harish was practicing hexes every day. He felt more confident about this task than either of the others. Difficult and dangerous though it would undoubtedly be, Harish knew that the twins were right about him excelling in the task's area, and not to mention the fact that he had time to prepare himself as well.

Tired of walking in on Harish and at least one of his friends all over school, McGonagall allowed them to use her classroom during lunchtime. Harish had soon mastered the Impediment Curse, the Reductor Curse, and the Four-Point Spell.

He was still sending messages to Sirius every day, and another message to his father and food to Sirius at least once a week. All of Sirius's replies were all about staying alert and reminding him that nothing mattered but the third task until that was over and done with.

Harish's nerves mounted as the twenty-fourth grew nearer, but this time it was more of an excitement than it was nervousness. One reason was that he felt that he had prepared himself for this one in every way he thought possible. Another reason was that he knew that this was the final hurdle, and however well he did, the tournament would at last be over.

This kind of saddened Harish, for he knew that it meant that he would have to do work again the next year, but he still felt some relief at knowing that he would no longer have to anticipate what was going to come next.

Breakfast was a rather noisy affair on the morning of the task as owls flew in, delivering the mail. Harish received a good luck card from Sirius that consisted of a single piece of parchment that had been folded in half and bore a muddy paw print. A screech owl arrived with the _Daily Prophet_ and Daphne took the paper off again. She unfolded the paper, glanced at the front page, and spat out a mouthful of orange juice all over it.

"What is it?" Harish asked as Hermione siphoned the orange juice off.

Daphne tried to shove the paper under the table, saying, "Nothing."

Harish reached forward to grab it, but Draco, who was sitting beside her, snatched it out of his hands. He glanced down at it and said, "No way. Not today. That old _cow_."

"What?" Harish asked impatiently. "Rita Skeeter again?"

"No," Draco replied, attempting to push the paper out of sight. Hermione leaned around Daphne to get a look at it.

"It is about me, isn't it?" Harish asked.

"No," Draco responded unconvincingly.

Before Harish could demand to see the paper, Ron shouted across the Great Hall from the Gryffindor table.

"Oi, Blake! _Blake!_ Why don't you go home to the Death Eaters where you belong? Sure you're not going to go mad on us?"

Beside him, a sandy haired boy was holding a copy of the _Daily Prophet_. Dean was on the other side of the boy from Ron and was looking both ashamed and angry at his fellow Gryffindor. Several students from all of the Houses were sniggering and twisting in their seats to see his reaction.

"Let me see it," Harish growled, leaning over the table and trying to wrestle it out of the blonde boy's hands. "Give it _here_."

Very reluctantly, Draco handed over the newspaper. Harish turned it over and found himself staring at his own picture, beneath the banner headline:

 **Harish Blake**

" **Disturbed and Dangerous"**

 _A student at Hogwarts, and the school's champion in the Triwizard Tournament, Harish Blake, is unstable and possibly dangerous,_ writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. _Alarming evidence has recently come to light about Harish Blake's strange behavior, which casts doubts upon his suitability to compete in an inter-school competition like the Triwizard Tournament, or even to attend Hogwarts school._

 _Blake, the_ Daily Prophet _can exclusively reveal, is student who enjoys being in the spotlight. He seems to get into all sorts of trouble at Hogwarts, but no one can offer proof substantial enough to punish him. It is reported that in the boy's third year, he held an unusual interest in a very valuable object that was being kept within the school, which was later stolen. We still do not know for sure who stole it, but it does seem very questionable. The very next year, he was caught out of bounds rescuing a girl from the Chamber of Secrets himself, and held an unusual amount of influence over the monster within_ (see page two for more information), _and the year after that he was found by a professor of the school near the fugitive, Sirius Black, after a dementor almost administered the Kiss._

 _The_ Daily Prophet _, however, has unearthed worrying facts about Harish Blake that Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, has carefully concealed from the Wizarding public._

" _Blake can speak Parseltongue," reveals Ron Weasley, a Hogwarts fourth year. "There were a lot of attacks on students a couple years ago, and most people thought Blake was behind them after they saw him lose his temper at a dueling club and set a snake of another boy. It was all hushed up, though. But he's made friends with a bunch of Death Eaters too. We think he'd do anything for power."_

 _Parseltongue, the ability to converse with snakes, has long been considered a Dark Art. Indeed, the most famous Parselmouth of our times is none other than You-Know-Who himself. A member of the Dark Force Defense League, who wished to remain unnamed, stated that he would regard any wizard who could speak Parseltongue "as worthy of investigation. Personally, I would be highly suspicious of anyone who could converse with snakes, as serpents are often used in the worst kinds of Dark Magic, and are historically associated with evildoers." Similarly, "anyone who seeks out the company of Death Eaters and dark creatures would appear to have a fondness for violence."_

 _It is true that Blake and his two friends, the Weasley twins, have been terrorizing the school since their first year with horrible "pranks". Albus Dumbledore should surely consider whether a boy such as this should be allowed to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Some fear that Blake might resort to the Dark Arts in his desperation to win the tournament, the third task of which takes place this evening._

Harish didn't know how to react to this article. While most of the information inside hadn't been proven, and most of it everyone inside the school already knew, but Harish knew that almost everyone in the Wizarding World read the _Daily Prophet_ and would know the information before the end of the day.

"How is she getting all of this information?" Daphne mused. "I thought she wasn't allowed on the grounds anymore."

"I _would_ say she's using some sort of bugging, but electronics don't work in the castle. The magic interferes with it."

"Bugging?" all of the pureblood wizards asked in confusion.

"Muggles have devices that they can talk to people over distances. Like the floo, but a lot smaller and easier to take everywhere."

"Hermione—bugging!" Daphne exclaimed. The two girls shared a look before dashing away.

All of the guys in their group looked confused and mildly concerned.

"They've finally gone mad," George muttered with a grin, earning glares from Harish and Fred.

"She must really hate that Skeeter woman though," Draco finally added after a moment of silence where they all continued to stare at the doors to the Great Hall. "If she's willing to risk missing the beginning of our Charms exam."

"Speaking of," the twins said. "What're you going to do during _our_ exam. Read again?"

"I suppose," Harish replied, but just then Professor McGonagall came walking alongside the Slytherin table toward him.

"Blake, the champions are congregating in the chamber off the Hall after breakfast," she said.

"But the task is not until tonight!" Harish exclaimed, accidently dropping eggs off of his fork, although he did not notice.

"I'm aware of that, Blake," she said. "The champions' families are invited to watch the final task, you know. This is simply a chance for you to greet them."

She moved away and Harish nodded, standing up and looking around the room. Fleur was already striding away from the Ravenclaw table toward the chamber. Krum slouched off shortly afterward. Harish jogged to catch up with them.

When he walked into the chamber, Krum was in a corner, conversing with his dark haired mother and father in rapid Bulgarian. He had inherited his father's hooked nose. On the other side of the room, Fleur was jabbering away in French to her mother. Her little sister, Gabrielle, was holding her mother's hand. Then, he saw his father and Bellatrix standing in front of the fire. A smile split his face and he had to resist the urge to laugh when he saw a large black dog standing beside his father, panting. He was wearing a spiked collar that had a leash attached to it, which Voldemort was holding.

"Here's the champion," Voldemort said with a smile. Harish let his father hug him before stepping back. Padfoot licked his hand.

Harish looked down at the dog and grinned.

"Hello Snuffles," he said quietly.

The dog wagged its tail.

"You have no idea how he pestered me and pestered me to come," Voldemort said with a grin. "Didn't want to be left out."

Harish laughed as the dog wagged its tail.

"How are you?" Bellatrix asked.

"I'm well," Harish replied simply. "Did either of you see the _Prophet_ this morning?"

Voldemort's expression grew dark.

"Oh, I saw it all right," he replied in a low voice.

Bellatrix put a hand on his arm and looked at him in concern. Voldemort looked into her eyes before sighing.

"You are right," he said quiet enough to where the others in the room couldn't hear. "I cannot go and hex that Weasley boy, however much I want to."

Obviously wishing to change the subject, Bellatrix turned to Harish and asked, "Why don't you show us around? I haven't been inside Hogwarts since the day I left."

Harish nodded and led them out of the chamber. Luckily exams had started for the day, for Harish was sure that there were some people that would have gotten nervous at the sight of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Is the picture of that mad old knight still around? Sir Cadogan?" Bellatrix asked as they left the building and began walking towards the lake.

"Oh yeah," Harish replied with a grin. "He hasn't bothered me much since I threatened to burn his portrait."

Bellatrix laughed, Sirius barked and wagged his tail again, and Voldemort smiled. Harish showed them the Beauxbatons carriage as they passed it and led them over to the Durmstrang ship for them to admire. This was what Harish enjoyed. The rare moments when his family seemed normal. He petted Sirius's head as he walked and talked happily with his "parents" about almost everything. They all laughed (or rather Harish laughed and Voldemort grimaced) as they watched Sirius romp around, barking at birds and chasing his tail every few paces.

They returned to the castle for lunch, leaving Sirius outside.

Everyone stared at Bellatrix and whispered. Although she was never sentenced to Azkaban, it was still rumored that she had been a Death Eater. Not to mention the fact that no one really knew of her divorcing Rodolphus Lestrange, so they were confused when they saw her with Harish's father.

Harish introduced all of his friends to the two of them. He also introduced Hermione as Hermione Black, knowing how big Bellatrix was into blood purity. Bella had been intrigued when she heard Black, and he and Hermione had hastily explained that Sirius was her father. At this, Bella spent the rest of lunch picking out the features of Sirius's that Hermione had gained from the potion she took.

Harish, his father, Bellatrix, and Padfoot spent the rest of the afternoon walking around the castle, and then returned to the Great Hall for the evening feast (save for Sirius, of course). Ludo Bagman and Cornelius Fudge had joined the staff table by then. Bagman looked quite cheerful, but Fudge, who was sitting next to Madame Maxime, looked stern and was not talking. Madame Maxime was too busy concentrating on her plate anyway, and Harish thought that her eyes looked a little red. Then, he noticed that Hagrid kept glancing along the table at her.

There were more courses than usual, but Harish hardly seemed to notice as he was beginning to feel nervous. As the enchanted ceiling overheard began to fade from a blue to a dusky purple, Dumbledore rose to his feet at the staff table, and silence fell.

"Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes' time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now."

Harish got up. All of the Slytherins, plus his friends in the other Houses, began applauding him. Voldemort, Bellatrix, and his friends all wished him luck and he head off out of the Great Hall with the other two champions.

They walked onto the Quidditch field, which was now completely unrecognizable. A twenty-foot-high hedge ran all the way around the edge of it. There was a tight gap right in front of them: the entrance to the vast maze. The passage beyond it looked dark and eerie.

Five minutes later, the stands had begun to fill; the air was full of excited voices and the rumbling of feet as the hundreds of students filed into their seats. The sky was a deep, clear blue now, and the first stars were starting to appear. Hagrid, Professor Moody, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick came walking into the stadium and approached Bagman and the champions. They were wearing large, red, luminous stars on their hats, all except Hagrid, who had his on the back of his moleskin vest.

"We are going to be patrolling the outside of the maze," McGonagall informed the champions. "If you get into difficulty and wish you be rescued, send red sparks into the air, and one of us will come and get you, do you understand?"

The three teens nodded.

"Off you go, then!" Bagman said brightly to the four patrollers.

Bagman watched as the adults disappeared around the edge of the hedge, pointed his wand at his throat, and muttered _"Sonorous_ ," and his magically enhanced voice echoed into the stands.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! In first place, with eighty five points, is Harish Blake of Hogwarts School!" the cheers and applause sent birds from the Forbidden Forest fluttering into the darkening sky. "In second place, with eighty points—Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!" More applause. "And in third place—Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!"

Harish could just make out his father and Bellatrix, surrounded by his friends, applauding politely. Sirius barked from beside Voldemort. Harish waved at them and they waved back. Padfoot moved a paw up in down and Voldemort grabbed the paw, stuffing it down where it couldn't be seen. He hissed words that Harish couldn't hear, but Harish laughed, knowing that he was reprimanding Sirius for acting too human.

"So…on my whistle, Harish," Bagman said. "Three—two—one—"

He gave a short blast on his whistle, and Harish hurried forward into the maze.

The towering hedges cast black shadows across the path, and, whether because they were so tall and think or because they had been enchanted, the sound of the surrounding crowd was silenced the moment they entered the maze. Harish almost felt as though he were underwater again. He pulled out his wand and muttered, _"Lumos_."

After about fifty yards, he reached a fork. Harish looked both ways, and clenched his wand tightly in his hand. Taking a gamble, Harish went left.

The teen heard Bagman's whistle for the second time. Krum had entered the maze. Harish sped up. His chosen path seemed completely deserted. He turned right, and hurried on, holding his wand high over his head, trying to see as far ahead as possible. Still, there was nothing in sight.

Bagman's whistle blew for the third time. All of the champions were now inside, and Harish had yet to come across any obstacles. It unnerved him slightly, and he kept looking behind him. The old feeling that he was being watched was upon him. The maze was growing darker with every passing minute as the sky overhead deepened to a navy color. He reached a second fork.

" _Point me,"_ he whispered to his wand, holding it flat in his hand.

The wand spun around once and pointed to his right, into solid hedge. That way was north, and he knew he needed to go northwest for the center of the maze. The best he could do was to take the left fork and go right again as soon as possible.

The path ahead was empty too, and when Harish reached a right turn and took it, he again found his way unblocked. Harish didn't know why, but the last of obstacles was now really unnerving him. Surely he should have met something by now? It felt as though the maze was lulling him into a false sense of security. Then, he heard movement right behind him. He held out his wand, ready to attack, but its beam only fell upon Krum, who had just hurried out of a path on the right hand side. He looked slightly shaken and he sleeve of his robe was smoking.

"There are some beasts back there," he hissed. "They're enormous—shoot fire—I only just got away!"

He shook his head and dove out of sight, along another path. Keen to put plenty of distance between himself and the creatures, Harish hurried off again. Then, as he turned a corner, he saw…his father. The man was ragged and looked as though he were dying. He staggered forward, whispering, "You were too late…they're all gone…" he started coughing really hard and fell to his knees. Harish stopped, staring in fear. Then, he raised his wand and said, "Riddikulus!"

There was a loud crack and the boggart vanished from sight. Harish breathed in a shaky breath before raising his wand high above his head once more and setting forward.

Left…right…left again…Twice he found himself facing dead ends. The teen did the Four-Point Spell again and found that he was going too far east. He turned back, took a right turn, and saw an odd golden mist floating ahead of him.

Harish approached it cautiously, pointing the wand's beam at it. It looked like some kind of enchantment. The wizard wondered whether he might be able to blast it out of the way,

"Reducto!" he said.

The spell shot straight through the mist, leaving it intact. He supposed he should have known better. The Reductor Curse was for solid objects.

Harish was still hesitating when a scream shattered the silence.

"Fleur?" Harish yelled.

There was no response. The teen stared all around him. What had happened to her? Her scream seemed to have come from somewhere ahead. He took a deep breath and stepped into the mist.

The world turned upside down. Harish was hanging from the ground, his hair on end. The teen hung for a moment in shock. His feet seemed to be glued to the grass, which had now become the ceiling. Below him the dark, star spangled heavens stretched endlessly. He felt as though if he tried to move one foot, he would fall away from the earth completely.

 _Think,_ he told himself as all of the blood rushed to his head, _think…_

He was certain he didn't know a spell that would help him. Well, he couldn't stand there all night. Harish squeezed his eyes shut and tried to convince himself he was still upright, then he wrenched a foot off the ground and stepped forward.

Harish opened his eyes and saw that the world had right itself. He stood in shock for a long moment before hurrying forward, looking back at the golden mist as he exited it.

He paused at the junction of two paths and looked around. There was no sign of Fleur and he couldn't help but think, _One champion down…_ He did the Four-Point Spell once more and took the right fork.

The Cup was somewhere and it seemed as though Fleur was no longer in the running. As he realized that he Krum were the only two left, he once again envisioned himself holding up the Triwizard Cup, splitting the thousand Galleon prize between himself and the twins, using it to buy a joke shop…

He met nothing for ten minutes, but kept running into dead ends. Twice, he took the same wrong turn. Finally, he found a new route and started to jog along it, his wand-light waving, making his shadow flicker and distort on the hedge walls. The he rounded another corner and found himself facing an enormous creature.

It was ten feet long, looking like an odd sort of scorpion. Its long sting was curled over its back. Its thick armor glinted silver in Harish's wand-light. As Harish stopped, the creature was shooting fire out its end at the hedges around it. Somehow, Harish knew that this was the creature Krum was talking about.

"Stupefy!" Harish shouted.

The spell hit the creatures armor and rebounded.

"Protego!" Harish exclaimed hastily and a shield popped up and absorbed the reflected spell. The skrewt turned towards him, or at least Harish guessed so, and scuttled bizarrely towards him. It shot a blast of fire out of its end again, and this time the fire headed straight for the champion. Harish darted out of the way of the fire, but it singed his leg slightly.

"Impedimenta!" the teen yelled. The spell hit the creature's armor and once again ricocheted off. Harish staggered backwards a few paces and fell over. " _Impedimenta!"_

The skrewt was inches from him when it froze—he had managed to hit its fleshy, shell-less underside. Panting, Harish pushed himself up and ran hard in the opposite direction—the Impediment Curse was not permanent, meaning that the creature would regain the use of its legs in only a minute or so.

He took a left path and hit a dead end, a right, and hit another; forcing himself to stop, the wizard performed the Four-Point Spell again, backtracked, and chose a path that would take him northwest.

Harish had been hurrying along the new path for a few minutes when he heard footsteps behind him. The teen turned to see Krum behind him. His wand was out, pointed straight at Harish. As he advanced, Harish could see that something about Krum was off. There was something absent behind his eyes, like he wasn't really in control of what he was doing. The two stared at each other long enough for Harish to realize that the other champion was Imperiused, and then Krum shouted, "Crucio!"

Harish ducked under the spell and rolled.

Then, he shouted, "Impedimenta!" Not looking back to see if his spell had struck home, Harish turned to the hedge and exclaimed, "Reducto!"

It wasn't very effective, but it burned a small hole in the hedge which Harish was able to put a leg through, kicking at brambles and branches until they broke and made an opening; he struggled through it, tearing his robes as he heard the Impediment Curse Wear off of Krum. Harish fell through the hedge and looked through the hole he had made to see Krum pointing his wand at Harish once again, through the hedge.

"Stupefy!" Harish exclaimed, scrambling backwards.

Before Krum had the chance to shoot another spell off at Harish, he had been stunned, sprawled on his back. Harish sat there, panting for a moment. Then, when he had regained his breath, he shakily stood up and continued on. Harish took a left and used the Four-Point Spell to make sure he was going to right direction. As he walked on, he knew that he was the very last champion; he was guaranteed to win.

Every so often, Harish would hit dead ends, but he felt that he must be nearing the center of the maze as it grew darker and darker. Then, as he strode along his path, he saw movement once again. Raising his wand, he saw an extraordinary creature that he had seen once before—in his Care of Magical Creatures textbook.

It was a sphinx. It had the body of an overly large lion: great clawed paws and a long tail ending in a brown tuft. Its head, however, was that of a woman. She turned her long, almond shaped eyes upon Harish as he approached. He raised his wand, hesitating. She was crouched as if to spring, nor was she sitting at all. Rather, she was pacing from side to side of the path, blocking his progress. Then, she spoke in a deep voice.

"You are very near your goal. The quickest way is past me."

"What do I have to do to get past?" Harish asked.

The sphinx smiled.

"You must answer my riddle," she responded. "Answer on your first guess—I let you pass. Answer wrongly—I attack. Remain silent—I will let you walk away unscathed."

"What's the riddle?"

The sphinx sat in the middle of the path and recited:

" _First think of the person who lives in disguise,_

 _Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies._

 _Next, tell me what's always the last the to mend,_

 _The middle of middle and end of end?_

 _And finally give me the sound often heard_

 _During the search for a hard-to-find word._

 _Now string them together, and answer me this:_

 _Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?"_

"So, I have to solve each part of the riddle to name which creature I wouldn't want to kiss," Harish murmured, pacing back and forth. Then, he stopped and turned back to the sphinx. "Could you give me the first few lines again?"

She blinked at him, smiled, and repeated the first line or so.

"A person in disguise," he muttered, staring at the ground, "who lies…that would be an imposter. No, that's not my guess! A—a spy…I'll come back to that…Could you give me the next clue, please?"

She repeated the next lines of the poem.

"The last thing to mend?" Harish repeated. He was still looking down and placed his hand on his chin thoughtfully. "Hmmm…I have no idea about that one… 'middle of middle'…" he thought for a second, before looking up at her in realization. "Middle of middle! That's the letter d! M, I, D, D, L, E. There's two d's in the middle of the word middle! Could I have the last bit?"

She gave him the last four lines.

"'The sound often heard during the search for a hard-to-find-word'," Harish repeated, thinking again. "Er…that would be…er…hang on—er! 'Er' is a sound!"

The sphinx smiled at him.

"Spy, D, er…Spied…Spider!" Harish stopped pacing and smiled at the sphinx. "A creature I wouldn't want to kiss would be a spider."

The sphinx smiled even broader. She got up, stretched her front legs, and then moved aside for him to pass.

"Thanks," Harish muttered, sparing her one last glance before walking past her into the path beyond.

Harish knew that he was very close. He whispered, "Point me!" and his wand spun to point directly in front of him. The pathway curved, and then split into a fork once again. Harish did the Four-Point Spell one last time, breaking into a run as he took the right fork.

The Triwizard Cup was gleaming on a plinth a hundred yards ahead of him. Harish sped up, running with all of his might. Now that the Cup was in sight, Harish felt a grin spread across his face. Then, something tripped him.

The teen fell hard, skidding on his face. Harish was sure it was bleeding as he scrambled up, clutching a hand to it. He turned around to see a spider behind him. It was at least ten feet tall. The only time Harish had seen one that was bigger was when he and the twins had snuck out to the forest in their fourth year and spoken to a giant spider that had to have been at least twenty feet tall.

Harish backed away from it, crying, " _Stupefy! Impedimenta! Stupefy!"_

But it was no use—the spider was either so large, or so magical, that the spells were doing nothing more than aggravating it. Harish looked behind him to see that another spider had come out of the path that was across from his. Harish turned back around, and had one horrifying glimpse of the spider's enormous pinchers before it was upon him.

He was lifted into the air in its front legs. Struggling madly, he tried to kick at it. His free leg connected with the pincers that were holding his other leg, and the next moment he felt excruciating pain. As the spider bit down on his leg harder, he raised his wand and cried, " _Expelliarmus_!"

The Disarming Spell made the spider drop the Slytherin. Unfortunately for Harish, there was a twelve feet drop beneath him, and he fell on his already bleeding leg. Harish crab walked backwards and felt his head connect with something hard. Blinking the black spots from his sight and rubbing the back of his head, Harish turned to see that his head had hit the plinth that the Cup was sitting atop of. The teen saw the spider advancing upon him, and in one last moment of desperation, Harish cried, "Accio Cup!"

The Triwizard Cup zoomed into Harish's open arms and the next moment he knew, he was lying on his back on the edge of the field.

* * *

 **TTFN**


	91. Part 6: Chapter 30

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty: The Surprise Duel**

After the silence of the maze, the roar of the crowd was deafening. People were getting to their feet, clapping. Harish stood up unsteadily and raised the Cup over his head with a grin. The noise of the crowd grew louder at this.

It was complete confusion as people started appearing all around him. It was hard to hear a word of what anyone was saying over all of the clapping and cheering. Harish swayed, blinking hard. His leg was hurting so much it was hard to concentrate on anything.

"He's hurt!" one person said. "He needs to be taken to the Hospital Wing!"

"Where's the prize money?" said another.

"Where's Krum?" yet another voice asked.

All around Harish, people were milling about. Most of them were adults.

"We'll be heading back," a voice said in Harish's ear.

The teen turned to see his father, Bella, and Sirius behind him. Sirius let out a bark.

"We have to make some important plans," Voldemort said with a wink before disappearing into the crowd.

"Come on, son," another voice growled.

Harish felt a strong hand on his back, leading him out of the stadium.

Once they had exited the crowd, Harish turned to see Moody steering him toward the building. Harish had much difficulty walking, and Moody helped him.

"You need a Hospital Wing," Moody growled. "Madam Pomfrey will fix you up…"

Harish did not remember the walk with Moody afterward. His leg was hurting more with each step, making him more and more non-apprehending. The next thing he remembered, old Mad-Eye had thrust a potion into his hands and he had downed it. His vision cleared and he saw Moody sitting in front of him, looking oddly excited.

Harish looked around. They were not in the Hospital Wing at all. They were, in fact, in Moody's office. Harish was standing in front of the door, which was slightly ajar. Moody, who was sitting on a trunk in front of him, seemed to notice Harish looking around, for he raised his wand and said, " _Incarcerous!_ "

To say that Harish was surprised was an understatement. He was beyond confused. The teen looked down at the ropes that bound his body and found that he could only move his fingers. He looked back up at Moody. Then, Moody said, "So here he is at my mercy, the infamous Harish Blake. You have no idea how long I have waited for this moment…"

Harish's eyebrows drew together in confusion. Now that he had taken that pain relieving potion he was able to think clearer, but his reactions were still a bit too slow.

"What—?" Harish was interrupted as Mad-Eye left to his feet.

"How do you think your name came out of the goblet twice, eh?" he asked roughly. "I put your name into that goblet in the hopes that you would die in the course of the tournament. Silly me, not realizing you would get through in first place."

"I don't understand—"

"Understand?" Moody roared. He took a deep breath and continued quieter, "Why do you think you passed out at the Quidditch World Cup?"

"How—"

"Because I cast a spell on you, that's why," Moody said loudly, talking straight over Harish. "My employer wanted me to send a message to your father. But, with that done, I was given a new mission: kill Harish Blake. But you, boy, are very determined to stay alive—too determined."

Harish, whose pain was receding even faster, caught onto the word employer. The one time he had heard that word before, came out of the mouth of a man who had tried to kill Harish earlier that year: Ex-Professor Quirrell. He heard the man's words echo in his ears as he remembered…

" _That's what my employer seemed to think…Didn't want me to draw attention to myself…no matter. I would've killed you anyway, if I hadn't been distracted."_

"What employer?" he blurted out. "Who are you?"

"Finally caught on, have you?" the man growled. "Finally realized that I am not Professor Alastor Moody?"

Whether the man had planned it that way would never be certain, but at that moment he conveniently began to change. The scars were disappearing, the skin was becoming smoother, the mangled nose became whole and started to shrink slightly. The long grizzled mane of gray hair was withdrawing into the scalp and turning black. Suddenly, with a loud _clunk_ , the wooden leg fell away as a normal one regrew in its place. The next moment, the magical eye ball had popped out of the man's face and a real eye had replaced it; it rolled away across the floor and continued to swivel in every direction.

Harish was so transfixed by the man's sudden change in appearance that he hadn't noticed that he had been released. Very suddenly, is was no longer Professor Moody who was advancing upon Harish, but Bradwr Jugson.

"You!" Harish said, gaping. "But you work for my father—you're a Death Eater!"

"I was," Jugson corrected him. "But when I saw what a madman he was…and I found someone else…I felt it was time for my allegiance to change…"

"To who?"

"No one!" Jugson snapped. "If my employer wishes to remain a secret, then a secret she shall remain…"

"She?" Harish asked.

"Confringo!" Jugson cried.

Harish stumbled back into the edge of the door and narrowly avoided being hit by the Blasting Curse.

"Stupefy!" the teen shouted.

Jugson wordlessly pulled a shield charm up to block the spell.

"Everte Statum!"

Harish pulled up his own shield. The young man lowered it just long enough to shoot a finger removing jinx. Jugson managed to avoid it. Then, he sent the Entrail Expelling Curse at Harish. The curse shattered Harish's shield and the teen backed out of the office.

"Bombarda!" Jugson called.

Harish slammed the door of the office shut and it splintered into a million pieces. Then Jugson pushed his way out of the office, forcing the younger man to back up even more. Jugson looked over Harish's shoulder and smirked. Harish turned and looked around, to see he was standing at the very edge of a three story staircase.

Before Harish had a chance to turn around, he heard Jugson say, "Caedo," and Harish felt his feet pushed backwards, causing his knees to buckle. He fell onto his back, knocking the breath out of his lungs, slid down a few feet before his foot caught under the railing of the staircase, causing him to turn slightly and his already bleeding and (most likely) broken leg cracked. Then, he tumbled down the rest of the stairs, hitting himself in so many places that he could no longer tell what was injured and what was not. Finally, he blacked out as he rolled across the floor, having reached the foot of the stairs.

Jugson, who knew that he could not be caught without the risk of exposing his employer, reached for an emergency portkey and disappeared in a blue hue. Then Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape hurried into the building, ready to apprehend whoever was pretending to be Alastor Moody, and found Harish lying bleeding, broken, and unconscious at the foot of the stairs.

All three of them drew in a sharp gasp at the sight of him.

"Minerva," Dumbledore said. "Please take the boy to Poppy. Severus, if you feel the need, give him any potions that might keep him stable on the way to the infirmary."

Both of the Professor nodded. Dumbledore leapt over the Blake boy before dashing up the stairs. He got off on the landing where the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was and ran straight into Mad-Eye Moody's office. He arrived there to discover that the office was empty.

After Dumbledore dashed off, McGonagall conjured a stretcher and levitated Harish onto it. Snape uncorked a vial, opened the sixteen-year-old boy's mouth, and a potion slid down his throat. Then, the two of them hurried Harish to the Hospital Wing.

Dumbledore found a ring of keys on the desk in the office, and concluded that they belonged to the chest that was sitting across from the door. The trunk was old and worn. There were seven locks on it. Dumbledore inserted the first key into the first lock and opened the chest. Inside was a mass of spell books. Dumbledore closed the trunk, stuck the second key in the second lock, and opened it again. This time it contained an assortment of broken Sneakoscopes, some parchment and quills, and a silvery Invisibility Cloak. He did the same thing for the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth, lock until finally he came across what he was looking for in the seventh lock.

The inside of the trunk had turned into a sort of pit, and lying on the floor some ten feet below, apparently asleep, was the real Mad-Eye Moody. He looked very thin and pale. His wooden leg was gone, the socket that should have held the magical eye looked empty beneath its lid, and chunks of his grizzled gray hair were missing.

Dumbledore scowled. He had arrived too late. Whoever had been acting as the insane ex-auror was certainly gone by then. Just to make sure, Dumbledore checked the ward of the school and confirmed that whoever it was had indeed left.

With a sigh of resignation, he went to see how young Harish Blake was doing.

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	92. Part 6: Chapter 31

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-One: When Lord Voldemort is Worried…**

Dumbledore rushed into the infirmary to see Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape bustling around a bed that no doubt held Harish Blake. Professor McGonagall was hovering near the doors, looking rather worried. As Dumbledore stepped closer, he could see the sixth year.

He had already been changed out of his robes and was only wearing a pair of underwear. His leg had been put in a splint and was sitting on top of three fluffy pillows. His head was propped up by another two pillows. Currently, Poppy was doing spell work on an area of the boy's chest while Severus was brewing a potion for their patient.

"Albus!" McGonagall exclaimed at the sight of the headmaster. "Albus, what—"

"I found Alastor," Dumbledore replied. "I think he is fine where he is until Mr. Blake is no longer in critical condition, but he will be needing to visit Poppy as well."

"Would you like me to bring him here?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"That would be appreciated," Dumbledore replied. "I need to go fetch Mr. Blake's father, who is undoubtedly home by now."

Dumbledore heard Minerva mutter about how horrible the circumstances were as she left the Hospital Wing. Then, he sighed heavily and went to his office. He threw floo powder into his fireplace and the flames turned green, then he stuck his head in the fire and called, "Anata Blake!"

The fire swirled and his head spun for a minute before an empty living room appeared. There were two deep green couches. One was directly opposite the fireplace and the other was against the right wall. Closest to the fireplace was a chair of the same green that had a cloak draped over one arm. While Dumbledore waited, he could hear an alarm going off somewhere within the house and Blake came running a moment later.

"Dumbledore!" Blake exclaimed, jumping at the sight of the man. He composed himself and asked, "What brings you here?"

"I am afraid I have some bad news."

"What?" Blake asked. "Does this concern my son?"

"Indeed it does," Dumbledore replied.

Blake looked very, very worried at this.

Dumbledore then said, "I will ask you to step through in just a moment, but before you do I must tell you that your son is in rather bad shape."

"What happened to him?" Blake asked as he hastily pulled his traveling cloak on.

"He was attacked," Dumbledore replied stiffly. He did not want to indulge any more information than that until he knew exactly what was going on.

Blake swore under his breath, looking down and running a hand through his hair. Then, he turned to the headmaster and said, "I'm coming."

Dumbledore nodded and pulled his head out of the fire. A second later, Blake came walking through the fireplace, dusting ashes off of his cloak. He hardly looked at Dumbledore and barely said a word; all he said was, "Take me to him," before they were running through the castle to the infirmary.

By then, students were flooding through the front doors from the Quidditch field. Voldemort saw a red head or two as he passed through, and he wondered if Harish's own friends knew he was hurt. Several students seemed to notice them, though. At least a hundred heads turned and stared at the sight of the headmaster running through the halls.

Voldemort was taken straight to the infirmary. The doors to the infirmary had been shut, so when Voldemort arrived, he threw them open impressively. When he entered the ward his son was in, he looked around. On the first bed directly to the right, all Voldemort could really see was a stack of pillows and several locks of messy brown hair. The bed next to Harish's was occupied as well. As he walked closer, he realized that it was occupied by the infamous auror, Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody.

Dumbledore watched as Blake walked over to his son's bed. Harish was now wearing pajamas, but it was hard to miss the splint on his leg, a sling on his left arm, and the very obvious scrapes that were on the boy's face and hands. Blake pulled a chair up beside his son's bed and looked down at him, obviously very distraught.

At that moment, Dumbledore realized the full extent of their relationship. Not only were they father and son, but they were all each other had. Yes, this meant that Harish was very close to his father and adored him more than most children adored their own parents, but his father had no one else either. He had no wife, no other kids, and—as far as Dumbledore knew—no siblings.

But, there were also some things about the relationship that Dumbledore did not, and probably would _never_ , understand. Like the fact that Harish was the only thing Voldemort was capable of loving. This made Harish so important to him and for him that it was indescribable. Voldemort probably would never even know how much he depended on that boy now.

Finally, Voldemort looked up at the old man and asked, "How did this happen?"

"We aren't exactly sure quite yet," Dumbledore replied. "He was found at the base of the stairs up to Professor Moody's office. One can only guess that whoever was impersonating him attacked Harish and caused him to fall down the stairs. But, we cannot know for sure until Harish awakes."

"When will that be?" Voldemort asked. His voice was oddly calm.

"I would have to ask the school nurse, but I can guess that it will not be tonight."

After a moment of uneasy silence, Madam Pomfrey walked out of her office and put curtains around Moody's bed. Before he could ask her about Harish, the sound of voices approaching the ward interrupted him. Seconds later, the doors opened and Ludo Bagman, Minister Fudge, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick entered the infirmary. Bagman was holding a sack of what could only be Harish's prize money.

"Dear God," Fudge said, stopping when he caught sight of Harish. "What happened to him?"

"That is something _I_ would like to know," Voldemort said.

"We are not exactly sure yet," Dumbledore clarified at Fudge's questioning look.

"Well," Bagman said. "Should I just leave this here, then?"

He lifted the sack of gold slightly and pointed to Harish's bedside table. Voldemort nodded.

"Poppy," Dumbledore said, halting Madam Pomfrey as she started back toward her office. "May I speak with you alone, please?"

Madam Pomfrey nodded and he followed her to his office. While they were leaving, Fudge, Bagman, and Flitwick left the ward as well. Bagman left the castle, Fudge went to wait on Dumbledore in his office, and Flitwick went to guard the infirmary.

Once they were away from prying eyes, Dumbledore asked, "How exactly _is_ he doing?"

"Mr. Blake is very lucky to be with us," Madam Pomfrey told him quietly. "I am sure the only thing that saved him was his magic. When he was first brought here, he was suffering from a severe concussion, a broken nose, several broken ribs, a sprained wrist, a broken arm, a broken _leg_ and a good deal of bruising and scrapes all over his body, including one nasty cut that looked like he had gained it in the maze from a spider."

"What have you done to heal him, so far?"

"I reduced the swelling inside his brain that was causing the concussion, and minimized his bruises as well as mended his nose and sprained wrist and healed up the cut he had on his leg. His broken arm and leg had to be dealt with differently, as bones are very particular about regrowing. I mended them as much as I could for now, but he _will_ have to be wearing those casts for at least the rest of the summer. He may need the one on his leg even longer."

"How badly was it hurt?"

"Aside from the four inch hole, he had a complete fracture. From what it looks like, it was already fractured when he came out of the maze, but during his fall his leg snapped clean in two. His arm, on the other hand, is just a closed fracture. It was incomplete and no surrounding skin was damaged."

Dumbledore winced.

Meanwhile Fred, George, Daphne, Hermione, Draco, and Ginny were all returning from the Quidditch stadium. They had lost sight of Harish after everyone went down to where he was to probably talk to him about his win. Then, they had moved down as quickly as the crowd permitted. Unfortunately, the crowd was moving very slowly, so by the time they reached the ground, Harish had already left (though they didn't know that). They milled about for at least ten minutes before realizing that he wasn't there and leaving.

"So where could he have gone?" Daphne asked as they climbed the steps to the castle.

"Probably went to get checked up by Madam Pomfrey," Hermione replied. "He looked pretty unstable on that leg."

Everyone else nodded.

"She probably had to wrestle—"

"Him just to let her mend it!" the twins said with a grin.

The others muttered their agreement, as they all knew how much Harish loathed admitting he was hurt.

"So should we meet him there or wait for him in the common room?" Draco asked.

"We should probably meet him there," Daphne replied. "And if he has to stay longer than expected, we could always go down to the dungeons."

"Okay," they all said and the six of them headed for the Hospital Wing.

When they arrived, they were surprised to find the doors closed with Professor Flitwick standing outside.

"Can we go in to see Harish?" Daphne asked apprehensively. Something must have happened, because normally professors didn't stand sentry outside.

"I am afraid that only his family is allowed in at the moment."

"Why?" Daphne asked, concerned. "What happened? He certainly wasn't hurt really bad when he came out of the maze."

"At the moment, I am afraid Mr. Blake could tell you that better than any of us could," Flitwick squeaked. "I don't know what happened myself, yet! I suggest you run along to bed."

Daphne nodded sullenly and they left, heading for their common room.

"Something must have happened," Draco stated, voicing her suspicions. "Normally they aren't this secretive."

"Yeah didn't his father leave?" Ginny asked. They all nodded. "Because I saw him running through the Entrance Hall with Dumbledore."

"Something definitely happened," Daphne agreed.

"Something bad," the twins added.

* * *

 **TTFN**


	93. Part 6: Chapter 32

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-Two: The Return of the Dark Lord Voldemort**

Voldemort eventually left the next morning. He had sat up all night beside Harish with Dobby popping in and bringing him tea around four in the morning. Eventually, he couldn't stand the wait and left, claiming that he had to go to work that evening. Although he would never admit it, the stress and the worry were overpowering. Normally, he didn't worry about other people being hurt. But since this was the one boy he cared for, the thought of losing him was unbearable. It honestly would have been kinder to him if Dumbledore hadn't told him his son wasn't hurt at all, but unfortunately the world did not work like that.

So Voldemort stumbled out of the floo the next morning looking pale with dark circles under his eyes. He dropped his cloak over the arm of his chair before stumbling over to the couch and falling fast asleep. Bellatrix, who stumbled across him on her way to breakfast, ended up draping a blanket over him and he slept the rest of the day until it was only an hour before he had planned to call all of his Death Eaters once again.

When he did wake up, he frantically hopped up off of the couch and changed into a clean set of robes, making sure his hair was combed and that he no longer looked like death warmed over. Then, he went over the plans he and Bellatrix had made for the upcoming war. Finally, that evening, he called up all of his Death Eaters, including the ones who hadn't known he was not dead.

All over the Wizarding World, people's Dark Marks burned. In an unplottable and shadowed location, Jugson scoffed. He would never return to his old master. In Azkaban, the Lestrange brothers began cackling as their marks burned. They knew their Lord was coming for them. Igor Karkaroff ran, abandoning his students. The man thought it would be better to commit suicide rather than returned to the ranks where he would be killed for betraying the Dark Lord's followers. Alone in his home, Barty Crouch Jr. Disapparated, happy that his master had finally called for him. Soon, people were appearing in Voldemort's meeting room with cracks.

Meanwhile, Severus Snape was giving Harish Blake a potion. In the room were Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore. The boy had yet to wake up. As Snape set the empty potion vial down, he hissed and clutched at his arm.

"What is it, Severus?" Dumbledore asked.

Snape gritted his teeth and rolled up the sleeve. Immediately after Voldemort's supposed death, the Dark Mark had faded to almost nothing as the Dark Lord cut off his connection with his Death Eaters. Slowly, over the year the mark had been darkening until it looked like a mere slightly faded tattoo during the third task. Now, however, the Dark Mark looked as dark as the day he had received it; pitch black.

"I've been telling you that the Dark Mark has been growing stronger?" he asked.

Dumbledore nodded in reply.

"He is calling," Snape said.

Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose. This was too soon. He had not anticipated the war starting back for several years. He thought quickly.

"You must go to him," Dumbledore replied. "He must think that you are his most trusted follower. Tell him that you continued working for me to spy on me."

Snape nodded. Then, he pulled his sleeve down over his mark and strode briskly out of the infirmary. Once he had reached the edge of Hogwarts's grounds, he disappeared with a crack.

The man reappeared in an unknown location. The first thing he noticed was that he was surrounded by other Death Eaters. They were all wearing masks and black robes. The second thing he noticed was the room he was in.

On the left hand side of the room was a large black cabinet. There were shelves lining the right hand side that were full of dark objects. At the front of the room was a raised platform with a high back chair in the center of it. There were two people, standing on either side of the chair. Both were wearing masks, but it wasn't hard for Snape to figure out who they were. The one on the right (his right, the other's left) had a mass of dark curls that fell onto her shoulders. The one on the left had straight blonde hair and was holding a cane that ended with a skull.

He knew that the two people were Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy.

But his eyes did not linger on them long as he realized who it was sitting in the high backed chair. His initial impression was that this man was Voldemort. He was not wearing a mask, so it was possible to get a look at his face. The instant Snape did, he realized that it was Anata Blake. The professor's eyes widened, but he wisely chose not to say anything. Then, the man caught sight of him and spoke.

"You are late," he said in a cold voice.

"My lord," Snape said, getting onto one knee and bowing his head.

"Get up," the man snapped. "I realize you still work for Dumbledore?"

"Yes," Snape replied ashamedly. "I remained at Hogwarts to spy on him. I, of course, knew that you were not truly gone."

"Very well," Voldemort replied. "I think it would be most beneficial if you stay there." The Dark Lord turned and addressed the other Death Eaters. "The time has finally come to restart the war. I know some of you might be surprised to find that I am still alive. Some of you might even doubt that I am actually your Lord Voldemort. I have changed faces, after all. But doubt not, for I can assure you that if you would wish, I can demonstrate my power." An uneasy tension filled the air. Everyone knew what happened when Lord Voldemort showed his power—people ended up being hurt. "No? Perfect. Now, Barty? Is Barty Crouch here?"

Barty Crouch stepped forward.

"I am here, my lord."

"I commend you," Voldemort said with a smile. "Not only did you go looking for me, but you managed to escape Azkaban as well. You were one of the few Death Eaters that still believe I was alive."

"Thank you, my lord," Barty replied eagerly.

Voldemort paused and his eyes roamed across all of his followers.

"Look at you all, standing there," he said in almost a whisper. Everyone heard him perfectly. "Thirteen years…thirteen years since we last met. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday…We are still united under our masks then! _Or are we_?"

He looked around at them all, knowing quite well what most of them did to avoid prison. They denied ever following him. They pleaded that they had been under the Imperious Curse, forced to attack Muggles. They had even sold out other Death Eaters just to avoid being left to the mercy of the dementors. Finally, Voldemort spoke again.

"I have asked myself how you could possibly not believe that I would rise again. That I would return…you, who knew the steps I had taken to bring a new era into the Wizarding World. You, who have seen the immense power with which I have demonstrated?"

"But then I answered myself, perhaps they believed a greater power could exist, one that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort…perhaps they now pay allegiance to another…perhaps that champion of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore?"

At the mention of Dumbledore's name, his followers stirred and muttered, shaking their heads. Voldemort ignored them.

"It is a disappointment to me…I confess myself disappointed."

One of the Death Eaters broke forward, trembling, and threw himself at the foot of the platform.

"Master!" he shrieked. "Master forgive me! Forgive us all!"

"Get up!" Voldemort barked. Then, he said in a much softer voice, "There are a few of you missing, however. The Lestrange brothers, who went to Azkaban rather than renounce me…Three also died in my service…and one who has fled. He will pay, of course."

One of the Death Eaters stepped forward once again. This time, it was Nott.

"Please, my Lord," he said. "Some of us are wishing to know…where _have_ you been all this time?"

"A good question!" Voldemort replied with a smile. "I have been waiting. Oh, how long I have been waiting! I knew that the Ministry was growing stronger. I knew we only had a matter of time before we would be overpowered…So I decided to lull the public into a sense of false security. I knew that if everyone believed me dead, then they would grow comfortable. And indeed they have. But no matter, we will overtake them easily this time…"

Voldemort conveniently neglected to tell them that the main reason he disappeared was because of the boy he was forced to care for. Snape realized he was working for two monsters. Dumbledore—who had promised to protect Lily, but had sacrificed her to see if Harry was the prophecy boy. Now, there was Voldemort, who had promised to spare Lily but ended up killing her and adopted her son as his own.

Snape remembered his own words he had spoken years ago.

" _My lord — the prophecy — it only speaks of one with the power to vanquish you. Not that he actually_ _ **will**_ _vanquish you — this power could prove to be useful to you…"_

It seemed as though the man had actually taken his advice for once. Snape couldn't decide whether this was a good or bad thing—at least Harry wasn't being used as Dumbledore's puppet, being blindly leaded to his death; as Snape was sure was what would have happened o Harry had he not been taken in by Voldemort…

"But the Lestranges, Barty, and all of the other Death Eaters were arrested _because_ of your disappearance," another Death Eater pointed out. "How will you replace them?"

"Another excellent question," Voldemort replied. "We will gain them back once we have control of Azkaban…the dementors will easily join us as we are their natural allies. We will also recall the banished giants. I will have an army once more."

Voldemort continued to talk for some time, explaining his plans—to an extent—and giving out orders. He had ordered several Death Eaters to go and reach out to the giants. He also spoke to the ones that were working for the Ministry of Magic, telling them to see if they can achieve more influential roles in the Ministry.

Finally, Voldemort said, "Now go and do as I have told you. I want you all to leave this room except Severus."

Severus was slightly shocked for a moment as the Death Eaters disappeared, the room filling with pops. Lucius Apparated from beside Voldemort and Bellatrix, Snape noted, did not Disapparate, but simply walked from the room. Then, Voldemort turned on Snape.

"Severus," he said. "I realize that the only way you can remain a spy for me is if you act spy for Dumbledore. If he asks you what happened today, you may tell him about my plans to send envoys to the giants. I know he will already suspect me of planning to do that anyhow. And, as I am planning to become public within the year, I do not mind you telling him who I am."

"You mean acting as Anata Blake, my lord?"

Voldemort's mouth twitched into a smile for a brief second.

"Yes," he replied. "You may leave now."

Severus nodded and prepared to Disapparate, but he paused and blurted out rather suddenly, "Is he happy?"

"I beg your pardon?" Voldemort asked. "Harry. Is he happy with you?"

Voldemort seemed to consider this before replying, "Why don't you ask him yourself? When he wakes, of course."

Snape nodded and turned on his heel, Apparating to Hogsmeade. As he walked back up to the castle, he couldn't help but remember Voldemort's face as he had sat by Harry Potter's side. The man had only looked that worried when he had thought that no one was looking. Could it possibly be that the Dark Lord Voldemort had come to care for the boy?

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	94. Part 6: Chapter 33

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-Three: Voldemort Has a** _ **Son?**_

When Snape returned to the castle, Dumbledore predictably pulled him aside and spoke to him in his office. Snape had done exactly as Voldemort had instructed him, when questioned:

"So Voldemort has returned?" Dumbledore asked him.

"Yes not only did the Dark Lord prove to us that he has returned, but he also informed us of how he stayed hidden."

"And how did he do that?" Dumbledore asked, leaning forward in his chair.

"He changed his appearance permanently and went under an alias," Snape replied.

"What alias would that be?" Dumbledore prompted him.

"Anata Blake."

Dumbledore was not able to hide his shock. He leaned back and his eyebrows raised as his eyes widened. He quickly composed himself and took on a neutral expression.

"Anata Blake is _Voldemort_?" he practically gasped. Severus nodded. "But, Harish Blake…he has a _son_?"

"Evidently," Snape replied, managing very well not to show his amusement at the old man's surprise.

When he had returned to Hogwarts, the first thing he had done was go to the Hospital Wing and look down at Harish—or Harry—and wondered what to do. He had looked at the face of his childhood friend's son. It was very easy to pick her features of out the teen's face as well as to pick out James's and now—Voldemort's. It was clever, really, the way the man did it. He had given the boy an adoption potion that would make him look like his biological son. James's features were still there, but there weren't enough to recognize right away. The boy would look like a were cousin—but then _everyone_ in the Wizarding World looked like cousins.

Finally, Severus realized that the boy did not act like he did not enjoy his home life. In fact, he had always made comments that made it seem as though he adored his father—Voldemort—fully and completely. And Snape once again remembered how distraught Voldemort was when he had realized that his adopted son was hurt. This meant that somehow Harish had wormed his way into Voldemort's heart, like he had done to all of the other professors, including himself.

After Snape had realized that Harish was actually Harry Potter, he tried to make himself hate the boy. In fact, he had originally lost his temper, but it soon became evident that his mother was more prominent in him than his original father. It also helped that he did not resemble James Potter in the slightest.

So, thinking this, Severus had decided that he would put his grudges against James away and protect Lily's son. In doing this, he would be allying himself to Voldemort, but he saw no problem with that. Especially after he had seen how Dumbledore was manipulating Neville's life, making him certain that had Harry survived as Harry Potter, the same thing would have happened to him.

While he was thinking this, Dumbledore was thinking along whole other lines. He now knew that Voldemort was Anata Blake. This meant that he also knew that Voldemort had a son. He also knew that Lily Potter was the mother. Dumbledore knew it must be so, for the boy had her eyes.

But how was that possible?

Then, Dumbledore started thinking hard. Harish was several years older than Harry, meaning that he most likely would have been born before she and James got married. Lily was a Muggleborn, which would have made her a target to Voldemort. This automatically made Dumbledore jump to the conclusion that perhaps Voldemort had captured Lily at some point and had accosted her. She would have hidden the pregnancy and then gotten rid of the child once it was born—thus giving Voldemort an heir—before trying to forget about the whole thing and marrying James Potter.

It all made sense the more Dumbledore thought about it. Finally, he decided that that must have been the case and wrenched himself out of his thoughts, asking Severus more about what had happened in the meeting.

Harish woke up the next morning, aching all over. Madam Pomfrey bustled over the minute she realized he was awake.

"How are you feeling this morning, Mr. Blake?" she asked briskly, plumping his pillows and waving her wand over him.

"Like I fell down a set of stairs," he replied dryly.

She chuckled.

"I am afraid you missed your father," she said.

"My father?" he asked, perking up. "He was here?"

"Yes," she informed him. "He sat with you all night, but had to leave yesterday morning for work."

Harish smirked at that. He knew all too well that the only work he had was terrorizing Death Eaters.

"So how long have I been out?" he questioned her.

"We found you unconscious on the night of the final task," she replied, he nodded. "And it has been two days since then."

"Two days?" he asked, bewildered. "I was injured that bad?"

"Yes, and I am afraid you will have to leave those casts on all summer, perhaps even longer."

Harish looked down at the cast on his left arm and his leg.

"Well," he said, smiling weakly. "At least it wasn't my wand arm."

He allowed Madam Pomfrey to lift his eye lids and check his eyes. Normally he would have protested, but he was too sore and exhausted. Of course, he didn't know that the exhaustion was a result of his magic working very hard to keep him alive.

The nurse walked away from his bed and Harish glanced around the Hospital Wing to see a large sack of gold sitting on his bedside table. It was only then that he remembered that he had won the Triwizard Tournament—it seemed so long ago.

"When can I leave the Hospital Wing?" he finally asked as she returned and handed him a tray of food.

"Not until school ends, I am afraid," Madam Pomfrey responded briskly.

Harish dropped his fork and his mouth fell open in indignation.

"I have to stay in here for the rest of the term?" he clarified.

"And you'll not protest either unless you don't want to see your friends," Madam Pomfrey retorted.

"My friends are here?" Harish asked.

"They are waiting outside the door—have been since you got in here. Finish your food and I might let them in."

Harish began wolfing down his food with a speed that rivaled Ron Weasley's sloppy eating. Then, he looked up, saying, "Done!"

Madam Pomfrey sighed before opening the doors to the ward. Then, she grouched to her office and left him alone.

"Oh, Harish!" Daphne cried, flinging herself on his neck. "We've been so worried."

He patted her head awkwardly and she let go of him.

"Sorry," she said, wiping tears from her eyes. "It's just, McGonagall told us how they found you and—it's just horrible!"

By then, Fred, George, Draco, and Hermione had filed into the Hospital Wing.

"How are you Harish?" Hermione asked.

"What happened?" Draco queried.

"Did you find out who's been trying to kill you?" the twins chorused.

Harish held up his hands and the others fell silent.

"I am fine," he said. "I did indeed find out who has been trying to kill me as well. It was Jugson, disguised as Professor Moody."

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed. "How did I not see that?"

"I don't know, and frankly I have been wondering the same about myself."

"But why did he try to kill you?" Daphne asked in a small voice.

Harish scowled, remembering his discussion with the man.

"His employer told him to."

"But who—?"

"I couldn't get it out of him. When I asked him who it was, he started attacking me. I probably would have beaten him too, if he hadn't used a spell that pushed me backwards down the stairs that are in front of his office."

Suddenly, a smack interrupted their conversation. Harish looked around to see Hermione looking out the window. Her hand was clenched so tightly her knuckles were white.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. Harish turned back to the twins, who were standing in front of his bed.

"Now that I think of it," Fred mused. "We haven't seen Moody at all."

"Not since you were attacked," George added.

"I thought Jugson worked for your father," Draco said.

"He _did_. He mentioned something about my father being a madman and finding a new cause."

The others looked shocked at this.

"Do you know what this means?" Harish asked finally. His friends shook their heads. "It means my father won't only have Dumbledore to deal with in the upcoming war."

Madam Pomfrey eventually shooed the others out of the infirmary. It wasn't long after that that Dumbledore got wind of Harish being awake. He had already flooed Fudge, meaning to speak with him about Voldemort's return, but it seemed as though a slight change in his plans was needed at that moment. So, he went down to the ward to ask Harish about Jugson's attack.

Once he got there, he questioned the boy.

"I know Moody took you from the Quidditch pitch, for that was what alerted me that you were in trouble," Dumbledore said, "but what happened after that?"

Harish considered Dumbledore for a moment, wondering what information he should indulge, and what he should save for his father. Finally, said, "It wasn't Professor Moody. It was a man pretending to be him. I think it was Jugson's father."

"Jugson?" Dumbledore parroted. "Bradwr Jugson?"

"That was his name," Harish said with a smile. "Anyway, he said he was taking me to the Hospital Wing, but after he gave me a potion for my leg, I realized we were in his office. Then, he started rambling on about having me at his mercy and about an employer of his, or something. When I asked about his employer, he started attacking me. I backed out of the office, holding him off with a few of my own spells, and he blasted the door apart. I think I was holding him off pretty well for a second, but then he used a spell that forced me backwards onto the stairs and I rolled down it."

"So you don't know who he was working for?" Dumbledore asked. Harish shook his head. "Do you know if he was the one that poisoned you?"

"Yes," he replied. "He said he had been given the mission to kill me."

"Kill you specifically?" Dumbledore asked, his eyebrows raised. "Do you have any idea why?"

Harish strengthened his Occlumency shields.

"No," he replied, not wanting to give away who his father was. He didn't know that Voldemort had already revealed himself.

Dumbledore studied Harish over his half-moon glasses, but their conversation was interrupted as Fudge walked into the infirmary, followed by Percy Weasley.

"Yes?" he asked. "Dumbledore, you wanted to speak with me?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"I am afraid I was a little distracted, as Mr. Blake has just woken up."

Fudge did a double take; he had not realized Harish was awake. He peered around Dumbledore to see Harish sitting up in bed.

"Hello, Minister," Harish said with a smile.

"So what did you want, Dumbledore?" Fudge asked, turning back to the old man.

"Could we perhaps go to a more private place to discuss this?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes first flickering to Harish and then lingering on Percy.

"If you want to speak to me, Dumbledore," Fudge said, noticing Dumbledore looking at the redhead. "You can speak to both me and Mr. Weasley. Now what did you want to discuss?"

Dumbledore nodded in resignation. He guessed that it wouldn't be the end of the world to discuss Voldemort's return in front of his own son, but he still lowered his voice and muttered, "I am very sad to tell you this, Cornelius, but appears as though Lord Voldemort has returned."

Fudge looked shocked for a moment and took a step backwards. Then, he smiled weakly and said for the whole room to hear, "See here, Dumbledore. You- you can't seriously believe that. You-Know-Who back? That's preposterous!"

Harish, who had been looking down at his sheets while Dumbledore was whispering to the Minister, looked up. Had his father finally come out in the open? Was he finally starting the war back up again? Harish watched the two men with interest, noticing as Dumbledore glanced his way.

"One of my own staff felt his Dark Mark burn while I was in the room with him," Dumbledore replied quietly, still trying to keep the conversation private. "He left on my orders to see what this was all about. I'm sure you remember him. Severus Snape?"

"You are taking the word of a Death Eater on this?" Fudge asked, still smiling oddly.

"Severus was proven innocent thirteen years ago," Dumbledore replied quietly, but loud enough for Harish to hear. "You know this, Cornelius. He became spy for me during the war. I would trust him with my life."

"The thought of You-Know-Who returning—preposterous!" Fudge exclaimed angrily. "I don't know what you're playing at, Dumbledore, but it seems to me you are determined to destabilize everything we have worked for these past thirteen years!"

"Voldemort has returned," Dumbledore repeated. He had abandoned all hopes of Harish not overhearing their conversation. "If you accept that fact straightaway, Fudge, and take the necessary measures, we may still be able to save the situation. The first and most essential step is to remove Azkaban from the control of the dementors—"

"Preposterous!" Fudge shouted again. "Remove the dementors? I'd be kicked out of office for suggesting it! Half of us only feel safe in our beds at night because we know the dementors are standing guard at Azkaban!"

"The rest of us sleep less soundly in our beds, Cornelius, knowing that you have put Lord Voldemort's most dangerous supporters in the care of creatures who will join him the instant he asks them!" Dumbledore said. "They will not remain loyal to you, Fudge! Voldemort can offer them much more scope for their powers and their pleasures than you can! With the dementors behind him, and his old supporters returned to him, you will be hard-pressed to stop him regaining the sort of power he had thirteen years ago!"

Fudge was opening and closing his mouth as though no words could express his outrage.

"The second step you must take—and at once," Dumbledore pressed on, "is to send envoys to the giants."

"Envoys to the giants?" Fudge shrieked, finding his tongue again. "What madness is this?"

"Extend them the hand of friendship now, before it is too late," Dumbledore continued, "or Voldemort will persuade them, as he did before, that he alone among wizards will give them their rights and their freedom!"

"You—you cannot be serious!" Fudge gasped, shaking his head and retreating further from Dumbledore. "If the magical community got wind that I had approached the giants—people hate them, Dumbledore—end of my career—"

"You are blinded," Dumbledore said, finally raising his voice, his eyes blazing once more, "by the love of the office you hold, Cornelius! You place too much importance, and you always have done, on the so-called purity of blood! You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be! I tell you now—take the steps I have suggested, and you will be remembered, in office or out, as one of the bravest and greatest Ministers of magic we have ever known. Fail to act—and history will remember you as the man who stepped aside and allowed Voldemort a second chance to destroy the world we have tried to rebuild!"

"Insane," Fudge whispered, still backing away. "Mad…"

And then there was silence. Madam Pomfrey was standing at the end of Harish's bed with her hands over her mouth. Harish was sitting there silently, knowing how important this moment was on the outcome of the war. If Fudge _did_ take the steps Dumbledore had suggested, then the war would be a bit harder for Voldemort's side. If he didn't, then Harish knew that they would be able to take over in less than a day.

"If your determination to shut your eyes will carry you as far as this, Cornelius," Dumbledore said, "we have reached a parting of ways. You must act as you see fit. And I—I shall act as I see fit."

Dumbledore's voice carried no hint of a threat; it sounded like a mere statement, but Fudge bristled as though Dumbledore was advancing upon him with a wand.

"Now, see here, Dumbledore," he said, waving a threatening finger. "I've given you free reign, always. I've had a lot of respect for you. I might not have agreed with some of your decisions, but I've kept quiet. There aren't many who'd have let you hire werewolves, or keep Hagrid, or decide what to teach your students without interference from the Ministry. But if you're going to work against me—"

"The only one against whom I intend to work," Dumbledore said, "is Lord Voldemort. If you are against him, then we remain, Cornelius, on the same side."

It seemed Fudge could think of no answer to this. He rocked backward and forward on his small feet for a moment and spun his bowler hat in his hands. Finally, he said, with a hint of a plea in his voice, "He can't be back, Dumbledore, he just can't be…"

"I can assure you fully that Lord Voldemort is indeed back."

He took another step back, shaking his head. Finally he added, "I have heard enough. I have no more to add. I will be in touch with you tomorrow, Dumbledore, to discuss the running of this school. I must return to the Ministry."

He had almost reached the door when he paused at the sound of Harish's voice.

"Sir, it's not just You-Know-Who," he said. "There's someone else who has been trying to get to him for years, but we don't know who they are yet."

Fudge looked at him in shock before shaking his head once again and leaving. Percy trailed behind him. Dumbledore stood there for a moment before turning to Madam Pomfrey.

"There is work to be done," he said. "Poppy, will you get Hagrid and tell him to wait for me in my office? Invite Madame Maxime as well, if she will come."

And he strode out of the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey hesitated before following. As she walked out of the door, she barked to Harish, "Do _not_ leave that bed."

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	95. Part 6: Chapter 34

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...**

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 **Chapter Thirty-Four: The Emerald-Eyed Serpent**

After his disastrous conversation with Fudge, Dumbledore made plans to work against Voldemort, knowing that it would be difficult without the support of the Ministry.

The week passed by very slowly for Harish. His friends came and visited him every day and talked with him for a good while. Harish was pleased to find that Hermione left him books to read and laughed when the twins suggested he prank Madam Pomfrey.

All though it would be momentarily funny, he doubted she would take it very well. Harish suspected that if he did do some of the things the twins suggest him do, such as turn her hair green, he would be stuck in the Hospital Wing for an eternity.

Finally, the end of the year drew nearer. Perhaps out of pity, Madam Pomfrey allowed Harish to go to the end of the year feast. Fred and George helped him to the Great Hall, where many people turned and stared, whispering to each other. The twins aimed their perfected glares at anyone they caught spreading rumors about Harish.

The end of the year feast, which normally was when Dumbledore informed the castle who won the House Cup, was merely a long meal where the students got to speak with each other one last time before summer. Harish cursed his broken arm many times as he had to get help cutting his meat, but at least he was still able to fork the meat into his mouth.

"Your trunk is already packed," George told him.

"We packed it for you last night," Fred explained.

Harish nodded.

"I hope you get vell soon," Viktor said to him, leaning forward.

Harish nodded and muttered, mostly to himself, "I do too."

The next morning, Madam Pomfrey saw Harish out of the Hospital Wing herself, with the twins once again helping him to walk and Daphne toting his trunk. As they left the building, Harish could hear her calling after them, "And don't let me discover next fall that you've been walking on that leg!"

Harish shook his head with a smile and the slowly made their way down the front steps toward the carriages. Before they reached them, they were stopped by a voice calling out to them.

"'Arish!"

Harish looked around. Fleur was hurrying across the field towards him. Behind her, Harish could see Hagrid helping Madame Maxime to back to of the giant horses into the harness. The Beauxbatons carriage was about to take off.

"We will see each uzzer again, I 'ope," Fleur said as she reached him, holding out her hand. "I am 'oping to get a job 'ere to improve my Eenglish."

Harish nodded at her and shook her hand.

"Get well soon, 'Arish," Fleur said turning to go. "It 'az been a pleasure meeting you!"

Harish's spirits lifted as he watched Fleur hurry back across the lawns to Madame Maxime, her silvery hair rippling in the sunlight.

"Wonder how the Durmstrang students are getting back," George muttered.

"Do you reckon they can steer that ship without Karkaroff?" Fred asked.

"Karkaroff did not steer," a gruff voice said behind them. "He stayed in his cabin and let us do the vork."

Krum was just coming out of the castle to leave.

"Good bye," he said. "Perhaps ve vill see each other again?"

"Perhaps," Harish said with a smile.

The carriages arrived a few minutes later and they all climbed in one and rode down to Hogsmeade station. As they got out of the carriages to board the train, the only thing that made Harish feel better about needing help from the others just to walk was the fact that he would be sitting in a train for the rest of the journey.

Once inside, they chose a compartment for themselves and talked at lengths about Jugson, wondering who he might be working for. All throughout the ride, people from all of the Houses popped their heads into the compartment and wished him well. Harish pulled out a his copy of the _Daily Prophet_ that he had yet to read, wondering if Rita Skeeter had gotten wind of his unfortunate fall.

"There's nothing in there," Hermione said. "You can look for yourself, but there's nothing at all. I've been checking every day. Just a small piece the day after the third task saying you won the tournament. There's been nothing about your father either. If you ask me, Fudge is forcing them to keep quiet."

"He'll never keep Rita quiet," Harish retorted. "Not on a story like this."

"Oh, Rita hasn't written anything at all since the third task," Hermione replied in an oddly constrained voice. "As a matter of fact," she added. "Rita Skeeter isn't going to be writing anything at all for a while, Not unless she wants me to spill the beans on _her_."

"What do you mean?" Harish asked.

"We found out how she was listening in on private conversations when she wasn't supposed to be coming onto the grounds," Daphne replied.

"How was she doing it?" Harish asked.

"How did you find out?" the twins queried.

"Well, it was Hermione who gave me the idea," Daphne explained. "And then she caught on immediately."

"Yes?" Harish prompted.

"Rita Skeeter," Hermione said in triumph, reaching into her bag, "is an unregistered animagus and she can turn—"

Hermione pulled a small glass jar out of her bag.

"—into a beetle," Daphne finished.

"You're kidding," Draco said. "You haven't…she's not…"

"Oh yes she is," Hermione said, brandishing the jar happily at them.

Inside were a few twigs and leaves and one large, fat beetle.

"You're kidding," both of the twins stated, leaning forward to peer into the jar.

"No, I'm not," Hermione said, beaming. "I caught her on the windowsill in the Hospital Wing. Look very closely, and you'll notice the markings around her antennae are exactly like those foul glasses she wears."

Harish laughed, leaning back.

"Hermione," Fred said. "I'm proud of you! It seems like you've gotten the guts to act Slytherin for once!"

Hermione blushed and put the beetle back into her bag.

"I've told her I'll let her out when we get back to London," she said. "I've put a charm on the jar so she can't transform while she's inside it. And I've told her she's to keep her quill to herself for a whole year. See if she can't break the habit of writing horrible lies about my friends."

The compartment fell into comfortable silence as they watched the country go by. Then, Harish leaned forward, breaking the silence.

"Now about that prize money," he said. He pulled out the enormous sack of galleons and placed it on the seat beside him.

"We've been thinking about that," the twins interrupted.

"It was all George's idea really—"

"It's kind of hard to split a number like one thousand three ways—"

"And we don't need—"

"So we figured you would get the largest sum of money—"

"As you were the one who won it anyway—"

"And frankly, you deserve it."

"Sounds reasonable," Harish said. "Because when I split it up, I ended up with three hundred and thirty-three galleons each with one person getting three hundred and thirty-four."

"But how are we even going to divide it up?" George asked.

"Even three hundred and thirty three galleons is a large number to count out," Fred added.

"I think I have a solution for you boys," Daphne said.

"What is that?" Harish asked.

"May I?" she asked, extending her hand.

Harish nodded and held the sack of galleons out to her.

Then she said, "Accio jar!"

Harish's truck opened and closed above them and the jar full of their joke shop funds came soaring down towards her. She cast an extension charm on the jar before tipping the contents of the sack into it.

"Now you don't have to worry about who gets what," she said simply. "It can all go to the joke shop."

Harish, Fred, and George nodded thankfully.

"That does—"

"Seem a bit—"

"Simpler?" Harish asked.

"Yeah," the twins agreed.

The train finally arrived in King's Cross Station with the normal confusion. People milled about on the train, pulling their trunks down and walking into each other. The platform was once again filled with hooting, meows, and croaks. It was a little difficult getting off of the train with Harish's leg in the shape it was, but the twins managed to get him onto the platform without him having to walk on it (though twice he had almost been stepped on).

Harish found his father waiting on him. He was carrying an object that was long, thin, and wrapped in brown paper. All of his friends left calling out, "Hope you get better!" and "Make sure you write this summer!"

As the twins left to find their parents, Harish leaned on his trunk.

His father stepped forward and held the package out to him, saying, "Mr. Malfoy bought you this. He thought it might help."

Harish tore the wrapping paper off to discover a beautifully polished black cane that's handle consisted of a silver snake head with emerald eyes. Harish gaped at it in astonishment.

"And look," his father pulled the snake head off to reveal it had a round slot in the bottom of it. "This is for your wand."

Harish slid his wand out of his holster and inserted it into the slot in the base of the snake's neck. Before he replaced the handle, he saw that the inside of the cane was hollow. As Harish limped out of the station on his own, his head held high, he couldn't help but feel very grateful towards Lucius Malfoy.

* * *

 **Whew! Thirty-four chapters in one day! I apologize for blowing up everyone's in-boxes-for those of you who follow my story.**

 **~TTFN**


	96. Part 7: Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...**

 **I will warn you, I will be posting all of part 7 today (but luckily it isn't quite as long as part 6), so if you don't want your inbox blown up you can momentarily unfollow my story-I won't be offended. Now on with part 7!**

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 **Chapter One: The Third Army**

Harish sat in the back of the room, watching the proceeds of a meeting with a mixture of curiosity and happiness. In the room before him, Voldemort was speaking to his Death Eaters. All of them were wearing masks and black robes. His father was at the front of the room, sitting in his high backed throne. On either side of him were Bellatrix and Lucius.

Harish himself sat on the floor near the doorway, careful not to draw attention to himself. At the beginning of that summer, the Dark Lord had started allowing Harish to sit in during the Death Eater meetings. It did not make much of a difference from before, for Harish had always found ways of spying on his father's private business, but he did have the pride in knowing that his father let him join them.

Harish groaned and wiggled his fingers as they fell asleep. His left hand had been taken out of its sling, but was still in a cast. It was a fact that peeved him very much. His arm was very hard to use when it was in that cast. Not to mention the fact that his leg was still bound, propped up on pillows, and unusable.

All summer Harish mainly found comfort in watching his father boss Death Eaters around and writing his friends, the Weasley twins.

The three mostly talked about their joke shop in their letters. With the winnings from the Triwizard Tournament, they were currently purchasing supplies to make the rest of the products they had planned. The three were intending on buying premises before the year was up.

Another topic of their letters was either Harish telling part of what was going on during the Death Eater meetings, or the twins writing about what was happening at their house. One such letter was sent to Harish on the first week of summer and read:

 _Dear Harish,_

 _We are doing very well, thank you. Fred and I have just finished the recipe for our Puking Pastilles. We are getting ready to make them, and then we'll try them out._

 _On another note, the two of us have just discovered that our house will become the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. It is a secret army run by Dumbledore. As I write this, members of the Order are working on hiding the Burrow. Luckily, since you have already been here, you will be able to come still._

 _Fred or I will write you after the first meeting. Until then, how is your leg? How are you faring? Is your father being annoyingly overprotective?_

 _George_

 _P.S. Fred says hi._

Of course, in return Harish had told them how he was doing and all about the Death Eater meetings he had witnessed. Or at least, he told them as much as he was allowed to.

A few weeks into the summer, Harish had invited Daphne and Draco over to his own house. He had had to stop sitting in on the meetings while his friends were over, but he reasoned that it was better than not having any other children to talk to over the summer (even though Harish was already considering himself a seventeen year old, as his birthday was less than two months away).

While they were over, they joined in on reading the twins' letters as well, and replied back. Then, they had left after two weeks, when there were still four weeks of summer. Later that week, he was sent to Hogwarts where Madam Pomfrey took the cast off of his arm and deemed him ready to walk around; as long as he didn't put pressure on his leg. Not that he complained; it hurt when he did walk on it.

As Harish sat there, watching the Death Eaters disappear from the room, he remembered the last letter he had received from the twins. He had received it one week after the others had left his house.

 _Dear Harish,_

 _We have okayed it with our mum. You are allowed to stay over for the rest of the summer. At first George and I were afraid that you wouldn't be allowed to come because of the Order, but they never let us into their meetings anyway. All we've been able to scrape from the meetings were either things our parents have let slip, or something we heard over the Extendable Ears._

 _We have already invited Hermione and Ron's invited Neville, by the way. They will probably be here before you arrive. George and I guessed that Mum would be more okay with you here if we invited a Muggleborn as well, which we were right. She seems to be more comfortable with the thought of two more Slytherins in the house, knowing that one of them is a Muggleborn witch._

 _If you are allowed to come, owl us as soon as possible and it has been arranged for you to floo here next Saturday. If you are not allowed to come, then we will see you on the 1st of September._

 _Write soon._

 _Fred._

Harish had shown the letter to his father that evening and was, of course, allowed to go. Therefore, he was due to leave that Saturday, which just happened to be his birthday. He had already packed and his trunk was sitting in the center of his bedroom. After the Death Eaters had all left, Harish sprinted out of the room and up to his bedroom. There, he made sure he had packed everything before getting into bed.

The morning of the 15th of August, Harish woke up at eight o'clock and made his way down to the dining room. There, he was greeted by his father.

"Happy birthday," the man said over the copy of the _Daily Prophet_ he was reading.

"Good morning, father," Harish replied with a grin. He sat down at the other end of the table and began eating. "What shall we do today?"

"I thought that perhaps you were finally old enough to take your Apparition Test, but perhaps I am mistaken," Voldemort said. "How old are you turning? Seven?"

"Seven _teen_ , Father," Harish corrected, his grin growing wider.

Voldemort shook his head, wondering where the past fourteen years had gone.

That afternoon, after opening a present from his father and taking his Apparition Test, he flooed to the Burrow at four o'clock. When he walked out of the fireplace with his trunk, he saw that Hermione and the twins were waiting on him in the living room.

"Happy birthday!" all three of them chimed.

"Wow," George said sarcastically. "You've finally caught up with us then?"

"Shut up," Harish grumbled as his friends reminded him that he was the youngest in their year.

He limped over onto the rug where the three of them were standing. He was clutching his cane tightly in his good hand and putting a deal of his weight on it.

"Harish!" Hermione exclaimed. "It's good to see you! What does it feel like to be an adult?"

"Strangely enough, it doesn't really feel that different," Harish replied.

"C'mon, Harish," Fred said.

"We'll help you to our room," George finished.

Hermione disappeared into Ginny's room as the twins watched Harish limp over to the staircase. It seemed like it took forever to get up to the landing where the twins' room was. After about five minutes, Harish's good leg got tired and the twins had to help him the rest of the way.

When Harish entered the room, he saw a few sweets stacked on the closest bed, a few boxes in the corner, and a bubbling cauldron in an open cabinet. In the middle of the room were crammed three beds.

"What's in there?" Harish asked, nodding his head to the cauldron.

"Blood Blisterpods," Fred replied.

"Or at least, they'll be Blood Blisterpods when we're done with them," George specified.

"So you finished the Puking Pastilles, then?" Harish asked.

The twins nodded.

"Once we finish these—"

"We'll do Fever Fudge."

"Sweet," Harish said, nodding and sitting on one of the beds.

The way they had been inventing sweets, was that Harish would come up with the recipe of ingredients and send it to the twins, who would start making the sweets. Harish didn't make them himself, because he did not know how.

The twins had found a cookbook of their mother's in the kitchen one night that had contained instructions on how to make different sweets. They had copied it and hid the copy in their room, returning the cookbook to its home before it was missed.

"We've been really careful to keep everything secret, though," Fred said.

"When we aren't in the room, we have to keep the cauldron hidden," George told Harish.

"And lock the door."

"And speaking of," George started.

"It's about time to add the flavor and coloring to the sweets."

While George stood on a chair and added some red powder to the cauldron, Fred explained to Harish how they made the Blisterpods.

"So first we add the water and let it boil before adding the ingredients that give it its joke qualities. Then we let it boil some more before adding the flavor and the coloring. Then it thickens in a pan."

He held up the pan.

"Once we have our own place," George said. "We can do it by magic and have a hundred sheets at a time."

"So how's old Perseus doing?" Harish asked after a pause.

The twins gave each other looks.

"Whatever you do," Fred replied in a low voice. "Don't mention Percy in front of Mum and Dad."

"Why?" Harish asked.

George looked over his shoulder, still stirring the cauldron, and replied, "Because every time Percy's name is mentioned, Dad breaks whatever he's holding and Mum starts crying."

" _Why_?"

"Percy and Dad had a row," Fred informed him. "I've never seen Dad row with anyone like that. It's normally Mum who shouts…"

"It was the first week back from school," George explained. "In fact, it was just after we sent that first letter to you."

"We had just been told the Order was going to be holding their meetings here, and Percy came home telling us he had been promoted."

"You're kidding?" Harish asked in surprise.

"Yeah we were all surprised," George said. "because Percy got into a load of trouble about Crouch, there was an inquiry and everything. They said Percy ought to have known Crouch was off his rocker. But you know Percy, Crouch left him in charge, he wasn't going to complain…"

"So how come they promoted him?"

"That's exactly what we wondered," Fred replied. "He came home really pleased with himself—even more pleased than usual, if you can imagine—and told Dad he'd been offered a position in Fudge's own office. A really good one for someone only a year out of Hogwarts—Junior Assistant to the Minister."

"So that's why he was following the Minister around that day!" Harish exclaimed. "But why was this so important that it caused a row?"

"Well, apparently Fudge has been storming around the Ministry checking that nobody's having any contact with Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore's name's mud in the Ministry these days, see," Fred said. "They all think he's just making trouble saying that You-Know-Who's back."

"Which does us a whole load of favor," Harish piped up.

"Dad says Fudge has made it clear that anyone who's in league with Dumbledore might as well clear out their desks," George continued as if he hadn't heard Harish.

"Trouble is, Fudge suspects Dad, he knows he's friendly with Dumbledore, and he's always thought Dad's a bit of a weirdo because of his Muggle obsession—"

"Dad reckons Fudge only wants Percy in his office because he wants to use him to spy on Dumbledore—and the family."

Harish let out a low whistle.

"I'll bet Percy loved hearing that," he said.

Both twins laughed hollowly.

"He went berserk," they both said.

"He said—well, he said loads of terrible stuff." Fred explained further.

"He said he's been having to struggle against Dad's lousy reputation ever since he joined the Ministry and that Dad's got no ambition and that's why we always been—well, poor."

"He said that?" Harish asked. He didn't know how the twins took it, so he was careful not to show any emotion except surprise.

"It got worse," Fred said. "He said Dad was an idiot to run around with Dumbledore, that Dumbledore was heading for big trouble and Dad was going to go down with him, and that he—Percy—knew where his loyalty lay and it was with the Ministry."

"And if Mum and Dad were going to become traitors to the Ministry, he was going to make sure everyone knew he didn't belong to our family anymore—"

"And he packed his bags the same night and left. He's been living in London ever since."

"Do you think this means he may join my dad?" Harish questioned.

Both twins shook their heads.

"I'm not sure," Fred muttered with a groan.

"I mean we all knew he was ambitious," George said, "but we never expected to say things like that to Dad."

"Mum's been in a right state ever since," Fred said angrily. "Crying and all. She tried to visit him once and he slammed the door in her face."

Harish shook his head and laid back, staring at the ceiling. The thing about the Weasley family was that they were all different, but they still stuck together. Sure, Ron was an annoying brat that was too Light crazy, but when it came down to it, he would never betray the twins. And the twins would never do anything to their parents. Harish was sure that they would convince Voldemort to spare them if they had to.

But Percy let his differences come before his family, and that was what made the twins so angry. The twins would never distance themselves from their family just to rid themselves of their bloodtraitor status, which was something _they_ had been struggling with all throughout school.

Somewhere below them, they could hear the usual crack that was associated with Apparating. Fred, who was closest to the window, hopped off his bed and pulled the curtain aside, peering down onto the grassy lawn.

Then, he clapped his hands together and said, "C'mon boys!"

"Got it, Fred," the other redhead replied, grabbing a fleshy string.

"Thank you, George," Fred said.

The two of them slowly opened the door, making sure it wouldn't creak.

"What's going on?" Harish asked, standing and following them.

"The Order is arriving," both twins replied in unison.

Now the Burrow's kitchen was a little cramped, but had a table large enough to seat the entire family and quite a few guests. On one side was the sink, window, and icebox; and on the other was the door to the house and the foot of a very rickety staircase. At the top of the staircase was a door separating the kitchen from the rest of the house. There was a door in the back of the kitchen to the left of the staircase that led to the living room.

In the living room was the fireplace and two doors: one that led off to Ginny's room and one across from that that led to the bathroom. The twins' room was on a landing with Percy, one floor above the kitchen. Their parent's room was just above that with another bathroom, and Ron's room was on top.

The Order always held their meetings in the kitchen just before dinner. Then, most everyone would leave and the Weasleys would have their meal. The lucky thing about the Burrow was the staircases that went in every direction, leading to a different floor. The twins could stand at the railing of their landing, and drop something down the stairs that led to the kitchen. This came in handy when it came to eavesdropping.

The twins led Harish to the railing and George pulled out the fleshy string. He dropped one end down in front of the door that led to the kitchen and held the other close to his ear. Fred leaned in to listen and so did Harish. The flesh colored string was another invention of theirs, Extendable Ears.

All three boys stood there with their faces scrunched up, trying to listen.

"I don't hear anything," Harish muttered.

"Nor do I," Fred grumbled.

"Or I," George agreed.

"I wouldn't try," a voice said.

The three young adults looked around to see Ginny and Hermione walking up the stairs toward them.

"What are you doing here?" Harish asked.

"We got kicked off the first floor," Hermione replied.

"Why shouldn't we try?" the twins asked.

"She's gone and cast an Imperturbable Charm on the kitchen door," Ginny replied.

"How do you know?" George asked, looking crestfallen as he started pulling the Extendable Ear back up.

"Tonks told me how to figure it out," Ginny replied. "You just chuck stuff at the door and if it can't make contact the door's been Imperturbed. I've been flicking Dungbombs at it and they just soar away from it, so there's no way the Extendable Ears will be able to hear through the gap."

Fred heaved a great sigh. "Shame. I really fancied finding out what old Snape's been up to."

"Snape's a part of the Order?" Harish asked curiously.

The twins nodded.

"So _that's_ what he keeps going on about," Harish said. "He seems really proud of being in the Order."

"How so?" Hermione asked.

Harish looked up the stairs before beckoning the others into the nearest door, which just happened to be Percy's room.

It was dark, empty, and beginning to gather dust. All that was in the room was a bare bed that was sitting in the corner. Catching Harish glance around, Ginny said, "Mum's kept the room empty hoping Percy will change his mind."

Harish nodded and closed the door behind them.

"Snape has been going on to the other Death Eaters about how he's infiltrated the enemy over and over again."

"So who's side is Snape actually on?" Hermione asked.

"Ours, I think," he replied. "He's been acting differently toward me since the beginning of summer."

"Are you sure that's not just because you're the Dark Lord's son?" George asked skeptically.

"Yes," Harish replied. "I asked him about his behavior change, and all he said was that I have my mother's eyes. Then he Disapparated. I think he is honestly working for my father because he knew my mother."

"He knows who you are, doesn't he?" Hermione asked.

The twins, Harish, and Hermione were all remembering that day two years previous when Harish had attacked Snape for calling him "Potter". Harish nodded in reply.

"He knew my—progenitor," the young man said. Everyone nodded, not commenting on Harish's choice of words, as he was uncomfortable calling anyone other than Voldemort his father. "So why shouldn't he have known my mother?"

"What does Hermione mean, who you actually are?" Ginny asked, confused.

"Nothing," Harish and the twins said quickly.

Ginny opened her mouth angrily to retort, but was stopped by the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs.

George stuffed the Extendable Ears all the way into his pocket. Hardly a second later, the door opened and Mrs. Weasley came in and said, "The meeting's over now, you can come down and have dinner. And who's left all those Dungbombs outside the kitchen door?"

"Crookshanks," Ginny replied smoothly. "He loves playing with them."

"Oh," Mrs. Weasley said. "I thought it might have been the twins," she gave them a an evil eye. "Ginny, your hands are filthy, what have you been doing? Go and wash them before dinner, please…"

Ginny grimaced and followed her mother out the door. Harish laughed quietly, surprised by Ginny's streak of cunning he had never seen and how slow their mother was. Then, he said, "I just remembered! I am of age now!"

He and the twins looked at each other for a moment before all three of them Disapparated, reappearing in the kitchen. Hermione shook her head when they disappeared with a pop and walked down to the kitchen herself.

A haze of pipe smoke hung in the air like battle fumes, through which loomed several figures, already seated for dinner. Rolls of parchment littered the table along with goblets, empty wine bottles, and a heap of what appeared to be rags. Mr. Weasley and Bill were talking quietly with their heads together at the end of the table.

Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat. Her husband looked around and jumped to his feet.

"Harish! Nice to see you!"

"And you," Harish replied politely.

"Summer all right, Harish?" Bill asked, trying to gather all twelve scrolls at once.

A girl near their age with spiky pink hair walked up, most likely wanting to help, but knocked a candle onto the last piece of parchment.

"Oh no— _sorry—_ " she mumbled.

"Here, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, sounding exasperated, and she repaired the parchment with a wave of her wand.

"That's Tonks," Fred muttered in Harish's ear. "She's only a few years out of Hogwarts."

Harish nodded and sat down as Bill vanished the scrolls with a wave of his wand. Across from him was a squat man with strawberry colored hair and a droopy face.

"And that's Dung," George told Harish, sitting beside him. "Mundungus Fletcher."

"Some'n say m'name?" Mundungus muttered sleepily. He raised a grubby hand. "I agree with Bill."

Ginny giggled.

"The meeting's over, Dung," Bill said.

"Eh?" Dung asked, squinting around at the teenagers. "So it has."

He reached into his grimy robes and pulled out and enormous pipe. He stuck it in his mouth, lighted the end of it with his wand, and gave a deep pull on it. Great big clouds of greenish smoke engulfed him within seconds.

"For the last time, Mundungus," Mrs. Weasley called, "will you please not smoke that thing in the kitchen, especially not when we're about to eat!"

"Ah," said Dung. "Right, sorry Molly."

The cloud of acrid smoke vanished as he stowed his pipe back in his pocket.

"And if you want dinner before midnight, I'll need a hand," she announced to the entire room.

Harish glanced around. By then Ron had slouched into the room, followed by Neville. Harish had no idea how many adults were in the Order of the Phoenix, but the only ones that remained were Tonks, Dung, Lupin, Bill, Molly, and Arthur. Tonks, Dung, and Lupin would be leaving after the meal as they lived elsewhere. Bill wasn't going to be staying, as he had gotten an apartment in Diagon Alley near Gringotts, where he had been transferred to.

Tonks eagerly bounded forward and asked, "What can I do, Molly?"

Mrs. Weasley looked apprehensive.

"Er—no, it's all right, Tonks, you have a rest, you've done enough today—"

"No, no, I want to help!" Tonks protested brightly, knocking over a chair as she hurried toward the drawer from which Ginny was collecting cutlery.

Soon a series of heavy knives were chopping meat and vegetables of their own accord, supervised by Mr. Weasley, while Mrs. Weasley stirred a cauldron the sat atop a bed of flames and the others took out plates, more goblets, and food from the pantry. Harish was left at the table across from Mundungus.

"Is that real silver?" Dung asked, pointing at the head of Harish's cane.

"Even if I did know, why would I give it to you?" Harish asked, lifting his injured leg for the man to see. Dung looked crestfallen.

"Fred—George—NO, JUST CARRY THEM!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked.

Harish looked around before diving away from the table. Fred and George had bewitched a large cauldron of stew, an iron flagon of butterbeer, and a heavy wooden breadboard, complete with a knife, to hurtle through the air toward them. The stew skidded the length of the table and came to a halt just before the end, leaving a long black burn on the wooden surface, the flagon of butterbeer fell with a crash, spilling its contents everywhere, and the bread knife slipped off the board and landed point down and quivering ominously where Harish's injured hand had been moments before.

"FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!" Mrs. Weasley screamed. "THERE WAS NO NEED—I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS—JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC DOESN'T MEAN YOU CAN JUST WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERYTHING!"

"We were just trying to save a bit of time!" Fred protested, hurrying forward and wrenching the knife out of the table. "Sorry Harish, mate—didn't mean to—"

Harish was laughing too hard to hear it. Mundungus, who had toppled backward off his chair, was swearing as he got to his feet.

"Boys," Mr. Weasley said in a chastising voice. "Your mother is right; you're supposed to show a sense of responsibility now you've come of age—"

"—none of your brothers gave us this sort of trouble!" Mrs. Weasley raged at the twins, slamming the flagon of butterbeer down and spilling almost as much again. "Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn't Charm everything he met! Percy—"

She stopped dead, catching her breath with a frightened expression as her husband's face became stony.

"Let's eat," Bill said quickly.

"It looks wonderful, Molly," said Lupin.

For a few minutes there was silence but for the chink of plates and cutlery and the scraping of chairs as everyone settled down for food. Then conversation slowly rose. Mr. Weasley, Bill, and Lupin were having an intense discussion about goblins while Mrs. Weasley spoke to Hermione about food recipes. Across the table, Tonks was entertaining Ginny by making her appearance contort every few seconds—apparently she was a Metamorphmagus. Dung was not talking to anyone, but was content examining the silverware, trying to see if they were genuine. Meanwhile, Harish and the twins were having a quiet conversation about the attack that had taken place at the end of the school year.

"So he _did_ say he was working for someone?" Fed asked.

"Yes," Harish replied. "He specifically said 'employer' and apparently his employer is a 'she' as well."

"Is there any way we could find out who 'she' is?" George queried.

"I dunno," Harish said dully. "I expect my father's looking into it, though."

"Still, I wish I knew who this third party in the war was," Fred muttered.

"Me too," Harish sighed.

 _LINE—BREAK_

A crowd of people stood in a room that was dimly lit. Everyone's faces were dark, and shadows were thrown at odd angles along the walls. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all a dirty concrete. The place had an all-around underground feel to it.

Then, a woman's voice broke the silence.

"The time is coming near when our revenge will be complete," she said. "Our time will come when we will have justice on those who destroyed our lives and killed our loved ones. A war is brewing, and with success we may even be able to stop it."

And the unknown force of people shouted their agreement.

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 **For future reference, my line-breaks will not be as goofy, now that the story is becoming more serious.**

 **TTFN**


	97. Part 7: Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

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 **Chapter Two: Pranking Shenanigans**

The next morning, Harish woke up to find that the twins were already awake and sitting on their beds. When they spotted he was no longer asleep, they both held out a package.

"Since yesterday was so busy—"

"We thought we'd celebrate—"

"Your birthday today."

Harish nodded thankfully and took the packages. One of them felt like it contained a book and the other had a box of some sort. Harish could tell that both presents were from both Fred and George. He opened the book first, ripping the wrappings off of it, and saw that it was titled, _Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches._

"Saw that at Flourish and Blotts the other day," Fred said.

"We, of course, did _not_ read it before giving it to you," George added, sounding slightly sarcastic as he shot Fred a look, who grinned sheepishly.

"That's all right," Harish said, setting the book aside and opening the other package. Inside was a regular kit of prank supplies from Zonko's.

"And we thought you could take those apart and see what ingredients they have."

Harish nodded and once again set his gift off to the side.

"C'mon, then, if you're done," George said as they stood up.

"Breakfast."

They chose to simply walk to the kitchen this time, in order to avoid the wrath of Mrs. Weasley. When Harish entered the kitchen, he knew that by _we_ , the twins had meant the entire Weasley family; there was a sizable stack of presents sitting on the table.

"Arthur told me to wish you a happy seventeenth, Harish," Mrs. Weasley said as the three boys sat down. "I know your birthday was yesterday, but I knew we would be able to celebrate it better today. That's our present on top."

Harish took the square parcel she had indicated, and unwrapped it. Inside was a watch. It was gold, with stars circling around the face instead of hands.

"It's traditional to give a wizard a watch when he comes of age," Mrs. Weasley said, looking at him from beside the cooker. "I noticed you didn't have one on when you came here."

"Yeah, well, my father's not very traditional," Harish replied simply.

"Here Harish!" Hermione exclaimed, hurrying over to the table and adding another gift to the pile. "It's not much, but I hope you like it. What did you two get him?" she added to the twins.

"Joke stuff," they both said, watching Harish put on his watch,

Then, Harish opened the parcel from Hermione; it contained a Sneakoscope. The other packages included an enchanted razor from Bill that had a note telling him to be very specific with his orders to the razor, a box of chocolates from Sirius (mailed from his father that morning), a book on cooking from Ginny (who had noticed the twins stealing Mrs. Weasley's cookbook), and a remembrall from Neville.

When Harish saw the gift from Neville, he was slightly surprised but pleased. He was also not surprised at all that he had not received anything from Ron, Percy, or Charlie (who was still in Romania).

When they returned to the twins' bedroom, the three young men were happy to see that the Blood Blisterpods were finished. Each teen took a blood red sweet and inspected it. Harish looked at his with trepidation.

"What are these supposed to do again?" he asked.

"Cause a nosebleed," both twins replied.

"Have we made the antidote yet?"

"We haven't made a sweet that's supposed to counter the nosebleed—"

"But we do have some things that should stop it."

"Well, here goes," Harish said. He lifted his and the twins did the same. "Cheers."

All three young men slipped their sweets into their mouths. Harish chewed and swallowed. A second later, he could feel something warm trickle down the inside of his nose. Harish looked down to see several drops of blood on the floor.

"Ugh," Harish groaned, holding his sleeve up to his nose.

The stream of blood was growing steadily stronger and soon his whole sleeve was soaked.

"George, where's dat andidode?" he asked, his voice sounding odd and muffled as he pinched his nose closed with the hem of his shirt.

"Uh, Fred?" George asked. "Didn't you have it?"

"No, you did," Fred said.

"Oh, Merlin!" Harish grumbled. "Sob-one had better get be some-ding very soon, or so help be—"

"Oh, you mean _that_ antidote!" George exclaimed, rummaging through the cabinet. He was having a good deal of difficulty finding what they needed. Finally, he handed Harish a wad of something and said, "Hold this up to your nose."

Harish did so. It felt oddly like a ball of hair. After a second, he asked George (who was still digging in the cupboard), "What is dis stuff?"

"Spider web," George replied.

"Spider web?" Harish shrieked.

"Yeah, now shut up and hand be some," Fred complained. He was pinching his nose with a bright red hand and holding his head back.

"Whatever," George said, tossing a bit of spider web at Fred.

Then, George found what he was looking for. It was a little jar of orange powder.

"Smell this," he said to Harish, unscrewing the lid.

Harish put his nose into the jar and breathed in, hard.

"Ah!" he cried, pinching his nose and reeling backwards.

Fred sniffed it too, followed by George.

"Ow!" Harish shrieked.

"That stings!" Fred complained.

"Sorry!" George cried, not sounding very sorry.

All three young men's eyes were streaming.

"Forgot powdered sun pepper stings so much," George mumbled.

Fred rolled his eyes, flicking the blood off his hands.

"Well at least we know they work," he said.

"Yeah," Harish grumbled. "But it would've been nice if we had been able to stop the nosebleed _sooner_."

Just then the door opened and an ear-splitting shriek caused the three boys to clutch their ears.

"WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU BOYS?"

It was Mrs. Weasley. She was clutching her heart, leaning against the railing behind her.

"Nosebleed," Harish replied.

At the exact same moment, George responded with, "Ron broke my nose, but it's all better," and Fred said, "I ran headlong into the cheese grater."

"On second thought," Mrs. Weasley muttered, grabbing the doorknob and starting to shut the door, "I don't think I want to know."

A few days later, Harish and the twins stood talking on the railing outside the twins' room. Each of them were holding buckets that were tied to the railing. All three of them were laughing.

"So then Dung," Fred was saying. "Dung tells us that he said, 'Where'd you get all those toads, 'cause some son of a Bludger's gone and nicked all mine!'"

"And Dung said, 'Nicked all your toads? Well what next? You'll be wanting more?"

"And the guy _bought_ the toads for twice he paid for them in the first place!"

And the three broke out in fresh gales of laughter. Then, Harish motioned for the twins to stop laughing, who did so, still shaking in silent giggles. They could hear footsteps coming from behind the door to the kitchen, coming up the stairs. Then, the door opened to reveal a red head of hair. After a second, it was clear that this was Ron. Once this was verified, Harish dropped the bucket over the railing, where it swung on its rope and white powder splattered itself onto Ron.

Ron stood there in shock, his eyes shut tight. Then, Fred dropped a second bucket. This one dropped water onto their brother. The powder all over the fifteen year old turned to goop for just a second before hardening.

Then, they could hear a muffled, "Mum! MUM! HELP! I can't move!"

A second later came muffled footsteps. As soon as they could see a shadow emerge through the crack under the kitchen door, George dropped the third bucket and the boys fled to the twins' room. As another wave of water washed over Ron, the hardened goop washed away and vanished. Seconds later, the door opened to reveal Mrs. Weasley, who stopped short at the sight of a soaked Ron.

"What's the matter Ron?" she asked. "Why are you all wet?"

* * *

 **TTFN**


	98. Part 7: Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Three: Perfect Prefect Percy's 'Prentice**

On August 31st, the booklists arrived for every Hogwarts student that was staying in the Burrow. Fred came in carrying three envelopes and saying, "Booklists have arrived." He handed them one to George and one to Harish. Then the three of them opened their envelopes.

"It's about time too," George muttered. "I thought they'd forgotten—they usually come much earlier than this…"

Harish opened his letter and took out three pieces of parchment. One reminded him that the first day of term was on September 1st. The other was the list of books for the year. The third however, was not the usual letter that was sent out every year to every student. Harish stared at it and when the twins asked what was up, he replied faintly, "I'm Quidditch Captain."

" _What?_ " the twins asked again, together.

"I'm Quidditch Captain!" he hopped off the bed and whooped happily. "See look," he shoved the letter under their noses and they both leaned back to read it.

"That's wonderful!" they both exclaimed.

Harish regained his composure and nodded. Then, he sat down and read through the list of books, positive the twins were doing the same.

"Only two new ones," Harish observed. " _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7,_ by Miranda Goshawk and _Defensive Magical Theory,_ by Wilbert Slinkhard…"

"Come on," Fred said standing up.

"Where?" Harish asked.

"Ron's room," George replied.

"Ron's room?" Harish asked as the twins disappeared with a _crack_. He shrugged and then Disapparated after them.

"We were just wondering who assigned the Slinkhard book," Fred said conversationally.

"Because it means Dumbledore's found a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," George said.

"And about time too," Fred added.

"What do you mean?" Neville asked. Ron nudged him with his elbow and sent him a warning glance, but either Neville didn't notice, or he was ignoring it.

"Well, we overheard Mum and Dad talking on the Extendable Ears a few weeks back," Fred told Neville, "and from what they were saying, Dumbledore was having trouble finding anyone to do the job this year."

"Not surprising, is it, when you look at what's happened to all of them?" George asked.

"One deathly ill," Harish said, counting them all off on his fingers. "One retired (of course that's not all that interesting), one fleeing the castle after accused of stealing, one's memory removed, one sacked, and one locked in a trunk for nine months."

"Deathly ill?" Neville asked.

"Our first year Defense professor," Harish explained. "Don't even remember his name, now."

"What's up with you, Ron?" Fred asked.

Ron did not answer. Harish, Neville, and George looked around. Ron was standing very still with his mouth open, gaping at his letter from Hogwarts.

"Don't want to stay like that, Ron," George said. "You'll get flies in your mouth."

"What's the matter?" Fred asked curiously. He moved to look over Ron's shoulder at the parchment.

Fred's mouth fell open too.

"Prefect?" he asked, staring incredulously at the paper. " _Prefect?_ "

George leapt forward, seized the envelope in Ron's other hand, and turned upside down. A gold and red badge fell into George's palm.

"No way," George said in a hushed voice.

"There's been a mistake," said Fred, snatching the letter out of Ron's grasp and holding it up to the light as though checking for a watermark. He then looked at Ron, revolted. " _Prefect_ …Ickle Ronnie the prefect…"

"Oh, Mum's going to be revolting," George groaned thrusting the prefect badge back at Ron as though it might contaminate him.

"Just like Perfect Prefect Percy," Fred sneered.

"Don't compare me to him!" Ron suddenly protested, his ears bright red. "I would never… _never!_ "

"What, betray your family? Well, Percy would be proud."

"Shut it!" Ron snarled.

"Or what?" Harish asked.

"What would you do?" Fred asked.

"Gonna rat us out to the Ministry?" George said, pretending to act frightened. "Oh, no! Save us! The Ministry has come for us!"

"I SAID SHUT IT!" Ron roared, his face now bright purple.

"Tut, tut," George said. "You ought to mind your superiors, Ronnie."

"Just because you're a prefect doesn't mean you can boss us around."

Ron suddenly drew his wand and in under a second, Harish and the twins had done the same. Ron froze at the sight of three wands pointed at his chest.

"Fine," he said, panting heavily as though he had just run a mile. He stowed his wand in his back pocket and held his hands out in front of him. "There, see? No wand."

The three seventeen-year-olds nodded and slowly tucked their own wands inside their sleeves (except Harish, who stuck his back into his cane). They stood there in tense silence for a moment before the door opened and Mrs. Weasley backed through it, carrying a basket full of laundry.

"Ginny said the booklists have come at last," she said, glancing around at all the envelopes as she made her way over to the bed and started sorting the robes into two piles. "If you give them to me I'll take them over to Diagon Alley this afternoon and get your books while you're packing. Ron, I'll have to get you more pajamas, these are at least six inches too short. I can't believe how fast you're growing…what color would you like?"

"Get him red and gold to match his badge," George said with a smirk.

"Match his what?" Mrs. Weasley asked absently, rolling up a pair of maroon socks and placing them on Ron's pile.

"His _badge_ ," said Fred. "His lovely shiny new _prefect's badge_."

Fred's words took a moment to penetrate Mrs. Weasley's preoccupation about pajamas.

"His…but…Ron, you're not…?"

Ron held up his badge.

Mrs. Weasley let out a shriek.

"I don't believe it! I don't believe it! Oh, Ron, how wonderful! A prefect! That's everyone in the family!"

"What are Fred and I? Next door neighbors?" George asked indignantly, but Mrs. Weasley pushed him aside and flung her arms around her youngest son.

"Wait until your father hears! Ron, I'm so proud of you, what wonderful news, you could end up Head Boy like Bill, Quidditch Captain like Charlie—"

"King of Prats like Percy," Fred muttered.

"Oh, what a thing to happen in the middle of all this worry, I'm just thrilled, oh _Ronnie—_ "

Fred and George were making loud retching noises behind her back, but she did not notice; arms tight around Ron's neck, she was kissing his all over his face, which had turned a brighter scarlet than his badge.

"Mum…don't…Mum, get a grip…" he muttered, trying to push her away.

She let go of him and said breathlessly, "Well, what will it be? We gave Percy an owl. Would you like an owl?"

"W-what do you mean?" Ron asked, looking as though he couldn't believe his ears.

"You've got to get a reward for this!" Mrs. Weasley responded fondly. "How about a nice set of new dress robes?"

"We've already bought him some," Fred said sourly, looking like he was sincerely regretting that choice now.

"Those were from _you_?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Or a new cauldron," Mrs. Weasley continued. "Charlie's old one is rusting through. Or a new rat! You always liked Scabbers-"

"Mum," Ron said hopefully. "Can I have a new broom?"

Mrs. Weasley's face fell slightly; broomsticks were expensive.

"Not a really good one!" Ron added hastily. "Just—just a new one for a change…"

Mrs. Weasley hesitated, then smiled.

"Of course you can…Well, I'd better get going if I've got a broom to buy too. I'll see you all later…Little Ronnie, a prefect! Oh, it's so wonderful!"

She gave Ron another kiss on the cheek, sniffed loudly, and bustled from the room.

Fred and George exchanged looks.

"You don't mind if we kiss you, do you Ron?" Fred asked in a falsely anxious voice.

"We could curtsy if you like," George said.

"Oh, shut up," Ron said, scowling at them.

"Or what?" Fred asked, an evil grin spreading across his face. "Going to run to Percy? Put us in detention?"

"I'd like to see him try!" George sniggered.

"OUT!" Ron shouted, and the three of them Apparated to their room with a crack.

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	99. Part 7: Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Four: The Woes of the Weasleys**

After they appeared in the twins' room, the door opened and Hermione appeared.

"Look!" she said happily, showing them a silver and green badge. "A prefect! I just showed Mrs. Weasley. She said she's going to throw a party for me and Ron!"

At the twins uncharacteristically ugly look, Hermione backed out the room with a hasty, "Sorry!"

That evening, the three young men walked down the stairs into the kitchen. There, they found Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen, cooking.

"Go to the living room," she told them. "I thought we'd have a little party instead of a sit-down dinner."

They were soon joined by Ron, Neville, Ginny, and Hermione in the living room after Mrs. Weasley went up to fetch them. Before she returned to the kitchen to grab the food, she said, "Your father and Bill are on their way, Ron, I've sent them both owls and they're _thrilled_."

Fred rolled his eyes.

Lupin, Tonks, and Dung arrived not long after along with a tall, muscled black man and Mad-Eye Moody, who the children only knew because of the impostor impersonating him all school year.

"So glad you came, Alastor," Mrs. Weasley said. "We're having a bit of a celebration." She gestured to a banner that read, _Congratulations Ron and Hermione!_ "Fourth prefect in the family!"

"Prefect, eh?" Moody growled. "Well, congratulations. Authority figures always attract trouble, but I suppose Dumbledore thinks you can withstand most major jinxes or he wouldn't have appointed you…"

Ron looked rather startled at this view of the matter but was saved the trouble of responding by the arrival of his father and eldest brother. Mrs. Weasley was in such a good mood she did not even complain that they had Mundungus with them too; he was wearing a long overcoat that seemed oddly lumpy in places and declined the offer to remove it and put it with Moody's traveling cloak.

"Well, I think a toast is in order," Mr. Weasley said once Tonks and Mrs. Weasley had passed out all of the drinks. He raised his goblet. "To Ron and Hermione, the new school prefects!"

Ron and Hermione beamed as everyone drank to them and then applauded.

"I was never a prefect myself," Tonks said brightly as she moved toward a coffee table that held a few platters of food and plates. "My Head of House said I lacked certain necessary qualities."

"Like what?" asked Ginny, who was choosing a baked potato.

"Like the ability to behave myself," Tonks replied.

Ginny laughed and Hermione looked as though she was unsure whether to smile or not. She compromised by taking a large gulp of butterbeer and choking on it.

"Watch it!" Fred said pleasantly, thumping a spluttering Hermione's back as he walked past.

Ron was rhapsodizing nearby to anyone who would listen, which wasn't a lot of people.

"…naught to seventy in ten seconds, not bad, is it? When you think the Comet Two Ninety's only naught to sixty and that's with a decent tailwind according to _Which Broomstick?_ "

Hermione was talking very earnestly to Lupin about the Ministry.

"I mean, why do they segregate werewolves? It all stems from this horrible thing wizards have of thinking they're superior to other creatures…"

Mrs. Weasley and Bill were having their usual argument about Bill's hair.

"…getting really out of hand, and you're so good looking. It would look much better shorter, wouldn't it, Harish?"

"Oh—I dunno—"

Harish muttered, sidling past her, over to where he had spotted the twins huddled around Mundungus. Mundungus stopped talking when he saw Harish, but Fred said to him, "It's okay, Dung. We can trust Harish, he's our financial backer."

"And partner in crime," George added with a wink. "Look at what Dung's gotten us," he added to Harish. He held out a handful of shriveled black pods. A faint rattling noise was coming from them, even though they were completely stationary.

"Venomous Tentacula seeds. We need them for the Skiving Snackboxes, but you know how they're Class C Non-Tradable Substance so we've been having a bit of trouble finding them. But Dung here, he's found some for us."

"So ten galleons for the lot, then, Dung?"

"Wiv all the trouble I went to, to get 'em?" Mundungus asked, his saggy bloodshot eyes stretching even wider. "I'm sorry lads, but I'm not taking a Knut under twenty."

"Dung likes his little joke," Fred said to Harish.

"Yeah, his best one so far has been six Sickles for a bag of knarl quills," George told him.

"Be careful," Harish warned them quietly.

"What?" Fred asked. "Mum's busy cooing over Prefect Ron, we're okay."

"But Moody could have his eye on you," Harish pointed out.

Dung looked nervously over his shoulder.

"Good point, that," he said. "All right, lads, ten it is if you'll take 'em quick."

Dung emptied his pockets into the twins' outstretched hands and scuttled off toward the food.

"You're welcome," Harish said with a grin.

"Cheers, Harish!" Fred said delightedly. "We'd better get these upstairs…"

Harish followed the two into their room. There, George opened up the cabinet.

"Bag?" Fred asked holding out his hand.

"Bag," he replied, holding out a bag with a flourish.

"Seeds?" Fred asked once again.

"Seeds," George responded, emptying his pockets into the bag. Then Fred did the same.

George then took the no longer empty bag and stored it in the cabinet once again.

"C'mon," Harish said once the cabinet was shut and they began walking back down to the living room.

There, Ron was still going on about his broom to Tonks (who was the only person that still found interest in his broom), and Mrs. Weasley was still exclaiming to people the achievements of her sons (minus the twins, because apparently inventing things weren't achievements).

Hermione and Ginny were talking now. Dung was speaking with Bill and Lupin, Mr. Weasley, and Kingsley were having a deep conversation. Harish saw Neville standing by himself and made his over to the younger boy, but Moody beat him to it.

"I've got something that might interest you," he growled. From an inner pocket he pulled a very tattered old Wizarding photograph.

Neville looked at it, and in curiousity Harish stepped close enough to see it as well.

"Original Order of the Phoenix," Moody said. "Found it last night when I was looking for my spare Invisibility Cloak, seeing as Podmore hasn't had the manners to return my best one…thought people might like to see it."

Neville took the photograph. A small crowd of people, some waving at him, others lifting their glasses, looked back at him.

"There's me," Moody said, pointing at himself. The Moody in the picture was unmistakable, though his hair was slightly less gray and his nose was intact. "And there's Dumbledore beside, Dedalus Diggle on the other side…That's Marlene McKinnon, she was killed two weeks after this was taken, they got her whole family. And there's your parents!"

Neville's stomach, already uncomfortable, clenched as he looked at his mother's plump round face. Harish stepped a bit closer to have a look. He noticed very well how much Neville resembled his mother.

"Poor devils," Moody growled. "Better dead than what happened to them…that there's Lupin…Benjy Fenwick; we only ever found bits of him…shift aside there," he started poking the picture and the little people edged sideways, so that those who were partially obscured could move to the front.

"That's Edgar Bones…brother of Amelia Bones, they got him and his family too…Sturgis Podmore, blimey, he looks young…Caradoc Dearborn, vanished six months after this, we never found a body…Hagrid looks the same as ever…Elphias Doge, I'd forgotten he used to wear that stupid hat…Gideon Prewett—it took five Death Eaters to take him and Fabian down, they fought like heroes…budge along, budge along…"

The little people in the photograph jostled among themselves, and those hidden right at the back appeared at the forefront of the picture.

"That's Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth, only time I met him, strange bloke…Dorcas Meadows, Voldemort killed him personally…Sirius with short hair…and the Potters. They died when Voldemort went after Harry all those years ago…"

When he heard this, Harish tried not to make eye contact with anyone. The only people in that room that knew he was Harry Potter were the Slytherins.

Moody smiled at Neville as though he thought he had just given the boy a treat.

"Thought that would interest you, eh?" he said.

Neville nodded and attempted to smile. Moody then stumped off.

"What was that all about?" Harish asked.

"My Mum and Dad," Neville said. "They were tortured into insanity by three Death Eaters. The Death Eaters wanted to know what happened to You-Know-Who, but my parents wouldn't tell them…They're heroes…"

Not knowing what to say to this, Harish nodded and said, "I never knew my mother. My father never speaks of her. It's too painful for him."

This was partly true, of course. Harish had a feeling that Voldemort was learning to regret some of the things he did when he was younger. The Dark Lord found it too painful to talk to his son about the boy's mother he killed.

"I'm sorry," Neville said, sounding most sincere.

It was a tone that Harish didn't hear often, and it shocked him.

"Thanks," he said awkwardly, looking to find the twins.

He found them a few feet away, walking up to Ron.

"Still bragging about that broom, Ronnie?" Fred asked.

"You're just sore that you've never had a new broom," Ron said angrily.

The twins both laughed.

"Us, sore?" George asked. "With the money we're gonna make, we could buy a _hundred_ new brooms!"

"How are you sure that people'll buy stuff from Dark people like you?" Ron retorted.

Both twins' grins slid off and they both said ominously, "Oh, we're sure."

"What's going on here, boys?" Mrs. Weasley asked, bustling over.

"Nothing," the twins both replied casually.

"They keep tormenting me about being a prefect!" Ron cried.

"Boys!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. "You know better than that! You're supposed to be the adults now!"

"The adults that are trying to protect ickle Ronnie," George muttered insolently.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Ron asked incredulously.

More people's conversations were stopping as they looked on the impending argument.

"Let's put it this way," Fred said. "We want to make sure you don't become a bigger prat than you already are."

"Positions of power," George continued. "They tend to swell people's heads a bit."

"I'm not a prat!" Ron shouted.

"You know you two could do with listening to your brother," Mrs. Weasley snapped. "You two were never prefects."

"Something we never hear the end of," George muttered darkly.

"You only got six OWL's between the two of you!"

"We don't even need OWL's," Fred mumbled.

"Bill was a prefect! He was Head Boy, even! And look at Charlie—Captain of the Quidditch team! And Percy—"

She cut off at the sight of the twins' faces.

"Yes," George said dangerously. "Even Ultimate Prat Percy is better than us."

"All because we were sorted into Slytherin."

"No!" Mrs. Weasley protested. Everyone in the room were watching the incident now. Every single Weasley had an ugly look plastered on their face, all except Mrs. Weasley who looked mortified. "That's not it at all!"

"I'm sorry to disappoint you all," Fred said darkly. "By George and I's less than standard grades."

"If you'll just excuse us," George said. "We shall go and get ourselves into more trouble."

"As usual."

And they both stormed out of the room. Harish looked around before dashing after them. Mr. Weasley's knuckles were white from clenching his glass of fire whiskey so hard, and it was beginning to crack. There was a moment of silence as everyone didn't know quite what to do, and then Mrs. Weasley burst into tears.

"There, there, Molly," Tonks said quietly, patting her on her back.

"All of this is all my fault!" Mrs. Weasley wailed.

"No, Molly, it's not," Lupin said weakly.

"Yes it is! What if they—they leave too? I just couldn't bear—With Percy gone and all…I'm just s-s-so worried," more tears spilled out of her eyes. "What if something dreadful happens to him and we had never m-m-made up? And what's going to happen if Arthur and I get killed? Who would take care of Ron and Ginny?"

"You think we would just let them starve?" Lupin asked.

"Just being s-s-silly," Mrs. Weasley hiccupped.

Meanwhile, the twins were haphazardly throwing things into their trunks. Harish sat on his bed, already completely packed, watching them grumble and vent. Finally, he spoke up.

"Don't mind her," Harish said. "She doesn't know what she's talking about."

"But—we're on opposite sides of the war," George finally said.

"They're still our family," Fred said.

"What if they get themselves killed and it's our fault?" George asked with pleading eyes.

"I won't let that happen," Harish said.

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	100. Part 7: Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Five: Pride of a Slytherin**

Harish woke on the morning of September first quite early. No one was up yet and the sun was only just peeking through the window. He lay in bed for a moment, staring at the sunlit ceiling, before getting up and grabbing clothes to wear to King's Cross Station. Then, he shook the twins.

"Wake up," he said.

The twins moaned and rolled over.

"If I can't keep sleeping, you two can't either," he snapped, slapping George.

"Fine!" George grumbled. "I'm up! C'mon Fred."

Fred rolled over (unfortunately rolling the wrong direction) and fell onto the small space of floor between his bed and George's.

"Ouch!" he cried. "I'm stuck!"

George and Harish pulled the young man off the floor and the three of them got dressed. Then, they bounded down the stairs for breakfast. Mrs. Weasley had already woken up and begun cooking. The three seventh years ate their food before returning to the twins' room. By then, people were poking their heads out their doors, trying to find last minute objects to pack, and getting dressed. The sun was much higher and the Burrow was a nest of frenzy last minute packing.

Fred and George locked their trunks and both cried, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The trunks levitated out of the room and flew down the staircase, knocking into Ginny. Fred, George, and Harish winced as she flew down from their landing all the way to the kitchen, the trunks not far behind. As Mrs. Weasley began to shriek, Harish said, "I guess it looks as if I'll have to take mine down manually."

Ron was the last to be ready. Then, they all gathered in the living room by the fireplace. As Mr. Weasley's car had broken down, they had no way of getting to King's Cross Station by car. Mr. Weasley had thought about borrowing Ministry cars, but the Ministry was not letting him borrow so much as an empty inkwell those days, so they decided that they were to floo to the Leaky Cauldron in London, from where they would walk the rest of the way to the train station.

The three seventh years had wanted to just Apparate, but since Ron and Ginny were both under sixteen, Mrs. Weasley forced the three of them to floo with them. So, with a cry of "Diagon Alley!" they each disappeared in a flash of green flames.

Harish spun out of the fireplace in London, and walked out into the Leaky Cauldron. Having been the last person to use the floo, everyone else was gathered in front of him. The large group left the shabby pub, and Harish noticed that there were more people in the group than before. Moody, wearing a cap pulled down where his eye was hidden, had joined them as well as an old lady, that Harish discovered was Tonks.

"Why the escort?" Harish whispered.

"Dumbledore reckons Neville is the Chosen One," Fred muttered back.

"He thinks that we would be attack in broad daylight, apparently," George sniffed.

Harish shook his head. Then, he looked around. It was still early enough in the morning that a slight chill hung about the air. The sky, which was a brilliant blue, had a few fluffy clouds on the horizon, but was otherwise clear. Birds chirped overhead as they flew.

Harish breathed in deeply and lengthened his pace.

They walked on until they finally reached King's Cross Station. Once there, they went through the barrier in groups. Then, Harish and the twins hopped aboard the train, claimed an empty compartment as theirs, and stowed their luggage above them.

By the time the train pulled sluggishly out of the station, they had been joined by Daphne, Draco, Dean, Ginny, Ginny's friend Luna, and Angelina Johnson.

"Dean told me you were made Quidditch Captain," she said as she sat down beside George. Harish nodded in reply. "Cool. I was too."

Harish gave her a wide smile.

"I'll see you on the Quidditch pitch, then. After we pulverize Gryffindor, that is."

"Not a chance," she replied with her own smile.

Everyone in the compartment laughed.

"Where's Hermione?" Daphne asked.

"Up in the prefects' carriage, I suppose," Harish replied.

"Oh I forgot!" Draco exclaimed, leaping off the seat as if it bit him and clapping a hand to his forehead. "I need to be down there too!"

And he practically flew out of the compartment.

"Hermione's a prefect?" several people once he had left.

"Yes," Harish replied simply.

His eyes roamed over the others in the compartment, where they lingered over Luna for a moment. She seemed even dottier than usual that day, wearing a string of butterbeer corks as a necklace and reading her magazine, the latest edition of the _Quibbler_ , upside down.

Harish asked, "Why is your magazine upside down?"

Luna looked up at him with her large protuberant eyes that gave her a look of permanent shock.

"I'm translating runes," she said in a dreamy voice.

"What, are the runes upside down?" Dean queried.

"No, you read them upside down," she replied in a tone as if she thought it should have been obvious before retreating back behind her magazine once more.

"So—how were your summers?" Ginny asked, changing the subject.

There were a few mumblings of "fine" and "good" from the people that hadn't stayed at the Burrow that summer. Harish snorted at the sad attempt at making conversation and looked out the window, watching as field after field passed by. Then, he began reading their new Defense book. After the first chapter, he sensed a problem, so kept reading until he finished it. The good thing about living alone in a manor full of books was that it was very easy to learn how to read entire books in only a few hours.

Hermione and Draco finally returned to Harish's compartment after the candy trolley had gone by. As they sat down Draco was whining, to no one's surprise.

"I'm so hungry," he said as Hermione stowed her trunk above her seat. "You would think—being prefects and all—they would have the decency to feed us."

"So how did your meeting go?" Ginny asked.

"It was boring," Draco said at the exact same moment Hermione replied, "It went well."

"Well," Dean said. "Who are the other prefects for our year?"

"Ron and Lavender for Gryffindor," Hermione said.

"Git," Draco muttered.

"Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott for Hufflepuff," Hermione continued obliviously. "And Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil for Ravenclaw."

"How did _Ron_ make prefect?" Dean asked. "Surely it would have gone to someone else—like Neville."

They all shrugged.

"That's what we've been wondering all summer," Harish responded.

"I'm going to enjoy this, though," Draco said with a smirk. "I could even punish Weasley for all the stupid things he does—like making him write lines. He's so thick I could only imagine him struggling to write, ' _I…must…not…look…like…a…baboon's…backside.'_ "

Everyone else laughed again.

As they rode farther north, the sky would become gray, before the clouds would disappear for half an hour or so and then returning again. The weather continued being undecided; after an hour or so, it started drizzling lightly. The rain slanted against the windows, pattering halfheartedly until finally it grew dark and the lanterns were lit.

"We'd better get changed," Hermione said, looking around at the magically lit lanterns.

They all nodded.

"Come on," Daphne said, leading the girls out of the compartment, her robes draped over her arm.

While the girls changed in the bathroom, the guys changed in their compartment. Then they let the girls back in and it wasn't that long before the train finally pulled to a halt. The group pushed their way out of the train and onto the platform, feeling the cool night air sting their face.

They split up as usual, each going to join their own housemates.

The seven Slytherins climbed into a carriage together and rode up to the castle in comfortable silence, each watching the castle grow nearer in the windows. The carriages rolled in between the giant winged boars and up the lawn, finally coming to a halt in front of the castle itself.

Harish looked up at the castle with mixed feelings.

It was his last year. This was the last time he would ride through those gates. The last time he would get a good look at the castle from a distance. This would be his last stay within the castle itself. As he looked up at the yellow lights shining down on them and opened the door to the carriage, he hesitated. The young man almost didn't want to get out of that carriage at all.

But, he gritted his teeth and started to get out. The ground, softened from light drizzles and dew, gave a little under the pressure of all his weight on his cane. The cane sunk an inch or so as Harish swung down onto his good leg and pulled his broken one out of the carriage in one swift motion. Then, he wrenched it out of the earth and limped into the castle, straight backed.

His friends watched him from behind, shaking their heads. None of them understood why Harish would never let them help him walk.

All except Daphne, but she didn't really count did she?

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	101. Part 7: Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Six: Enter Professor Toad—er—Umbridge**

Ron and Neville exited their compartment and were jostled onto the platform. Once there, Ron listened for the familiar, "Firs' years this way!" but it never came. Instead, they could hear a woman calling, "First years! Over here, please! First years! Hurry up!"

As Ron and Neville clambered into a carriage, Ron asked, "Did you see that Grubbly-Plank woman?"

Neville shook his head.

"Does this mean that Hagrid's left?" he queried.

"I hope not," Ron replied uneasily.

Meanwhile, the Slytherins were all seating themselves at their table and talking quietly amongst themselves. Hermione glanced up at the teachers' table and suddenly asked, "Who's that?"

Up at the table, Harish immediately noticed Dumbledore in the centre of the table. His headed was inclined slightly toward a woman who was sitting next to him, talking in his ear. She was a squat woman with a wide mouth, curly brown hair, and the most horrible pink cardigan anyone had ever seen. Her face was pallid and toad like with a pair of prominent, pouchy eyes.

"I know her!" Draco exclaimed. "She works for Fudge! Her name is Dolores something or another."

"Nice cardigan," Fred muttered with a smirk.

"She works for Fudge?" Hermione repeated with a frown. "What on earth is she doing here then?"

"I think it's because of Fudge thinking that Dumbledore's causing a ruckus. He wants someone in the castle to keep an eye on the old man," Draco theorized aloud.

Hermione, however, wasn't listening but was scanning the table through narrowed eyes.

"No," she muttered, "no, surely not…"

Harish was about to ask her what she meant, but his attention was caught by Professor Grubbly-Plank who had just appeared behind the staff table; she worked her way along to the very end and sat where the gamekeeper normally sat. This meant that the first years must have finished crossing the lake and reached the castle, and sure enough, the doors opened seconds later as McGonagall led a group of pale-faced first years toward the front of the Hall.

The first years' faces glowed palely in the candlelight. A small boy in the middle of the row looked as though he was trembling.

The whole school waited, staring at a stool in front of the first years that held a dirty old hat. The rip near the hat's brim opened wide like a mouth and the Sorting Hat burst into song:

 _In times of old when I was new_

 _And Hogwarts barely started_

 _The founders of our noble school_

 _Though never to be parted:_

 _United by a common goal,_

 _They had the self-same yearning._

 _To make the world's best magic school_

 _And pass along their learning._

" _Together we will build and teach!"_

 _The four good friends decided_

 _And never did they dream that they_

 _Might someday be divided,_

 _For were there such friends anywhere_

 _As Slytherin and Gryffindor?_

 _Unless it was the second pair_

 _Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?_

 _So how could it have gone so wrong?_

 _How could such friendships fail?_

 _Why, I was there and so can tell_

 _The whole sad, sorry tale._

 _Said Slytherin, "We'll teach just those whose ancestry is purest."_

 _Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach those whose Intelligence is surest."_

 _Said Gryffindor, "We'll teach all those_

 _With brave deeds to their name.."_

 _Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot,_

 _And treat them just the same."_

 _These differences caused little strife_

 _When first they came to light,_

 _For each of the four founders had_

 _A House in which they might_

 _Take only those they wanted, so,_

 _For instance, Slytherin_

 _Took only pure-blood wizards_

 _Of great cunning, just like him,_

 _And only those of sharpest_

 _mind_

 _Were taught by Ravenclaw_

 _While the bravest and_

 _Boldest_

 _Went to daring Gryffindor._

 _Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest,_

 _And taught them all she knew,_

 _Thus the Houses and their founders_

 _Retained friendships firm and true._

 _So Hogwarts working in harmony_

 _For several happy years,_

 _But then discord crept among us_

 _Feeding on our faults and dears._

 _The Houses that, like pillars four,_

 _Had once held up our school,_

 _Now turned upon each other_

 _And,_

 _Divided sought to rule._

 _And for a while it seemed_

 _The school_

 _Must meet an early en,_

 _What with dueling and fighting_

 _And the clash of friend on friend_

 _And at last there came a morning_

 _When old Slytherin departed_

 _And though the fighting died out_

 _He left us quite downhearted._

 _And never since the founders four_

 _Were whittled down to three_

 _Have the Houses been united_

 _As they once were meant to be._

 _And now the Sorting Hat is here_

 _And you all now the score:_

 _I sort you into Houses_

' _Cause that is what I'm for,_

 _But this year I'll go further,_

 _Listen closely to my song:_

 _Though condemned I am to split you_

 _Still I worry that it's wrong,_

 _Though I must fulfil my duty_

 _And must quarter every year_

 _Still I wonder whether Sorting_

 _May not bring the end I fear._

 _Oh, know the perils, read the signs,_

 _The warning history shows,_

 _For our Hogwarts is in danger_

 _From external, deadly foes_

 _And we must unite inside her_

 _Or we'll crumble within._

 _I have told you, I have warned you…_

 _Let the Sorting now begin._

The hat became motionless once more; applause broke out, though it was punctured, for the first time in Harish's memory, with muttering and whispers. All across the Great Hall students were exchanging remarks with their neighbours and Harish, clapping along with everyone else, knew exactly what they were talking about.

"Branched out a bit—" Fred started.

"This year, hasn't it?" George finished.

"Too right it has," Harish agreed.

The sorting hat usually confined itself to describing the different qualities looked for by each of the four Hogwarts Houses and its own role in sorting them; none of them could remember it ever trying to give the school advice before.

"I wonder if it's ever given warnings before?" Hermione pondered anxiously.

"Not in the years I've been here," Harish replied.

They fell silent at the sight of Professor McGonagall sweeping her eyes across the Great Hall with pursed lips. She had paused in the Sorting, obviously waiting for the Hall to fall silent again. The hushed whispers died out and with one last frowning look, McGonagall lowered her eyes to her long piece of parchment and called out,

"Abercrombie, Euan."

They watched as the boy was sorted into Gryffindor and clapped politely. Slowly the line of first years thinned; in the pauses between names, Harish could hear two loud growls on either side of him. The twins had a rather large appetite, after all. Finally, "Zeller, Rose" was sorted into Hufflepuff, and Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and stool and marched them away as Dumbledore rose to his feet.

"To our newcomers," Dumbledore said with a revolting smile, his arms stretched wide, "welcome! To our old hands—welcome back! There is a time for speech making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"

There was an appreciative laugh, an outbreak of applause, and some eye rolling from the Slytherins as Dumbledore sat down neatly and threw his long beard over his shoulder so as to keep it out of his plate—for food had appeared out of nowhere, so that the five long tables were groaning under joints and pies and dishes of vegetables, bread, sauces, and flagons of pumpkin juice.

"Excellent," both twins said, seizing whatever food they could grab and dumping it onto their plates.

Everyone in the Hall dug in, making small talk and wondering aloud about the Hat's warning.

"Of course," Harish said after swallowing a large mouthful of chicken. "We already have that down, haven't we? House unity? I mean we are all Slytherins, and we also hang out with Angelina and Dean, who are Gryffindors, and Luna, who is a Ravenclaw. And those Hufflepuffs owe us a favour. You know from when I caught the culprit behind the opening of the Chamber of Secrets."

"That is true," Daphne said.

When all of the students had finished eating and the noise level in the hall was starting to creep upward again, Dumbledore got to his feet once more. Talking ceased immediately as all turned to face the headmaster. Harish was feeling reasonably tired from the amount of food he ate.

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term announcements," Dumbledore said. "First years ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students—and a few of our older students ought to know by now too." (Harish, the twins, and Hermione exchanged smirks.)

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of others things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door.

"We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was a round of polite but unenthusiastic applause during which Ron and Neville exchanged panicked looks; Dumbledore had not said how long Grubbly-Plank would be teaching.

Dumbledore then continued, "Try-outs for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the—"

He broke of, looking inquiringly at Professor Umbridge. As she was not much taller sitting than standing, there was a moment when no one understood why Dumbledore had stopped talking, but then Umbridge said, _"Hem, hem,_ " and it became clear that she had gotten to her feet and was intending to make a speech.

Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a moment, then he sat back down smartly and looked alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing better than to listen to her talk. Other members of the staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise. Professor Sprout's eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair, and Professor McGonagall's mouth was as thin as any of them had ever seen it. No new teacher had ever interrupted Dumbledore before. Many of the students were smirking; this woman obviously did not know how things were done at Hogwarts.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Umbridge simpered in a high, girly voice, "for those kind words of welcome."

Several students, Harish included, were surprised when her voice didn't come out a croak. Instead, it was high-pitched, breathy, and little girlish. Though he did not know why, Harish felt a huge surge of dislike well up within him at the sound of her voice. All Harish knew was that he loathed everything about her, from her stupid voice to her fluffy pink cardigan. She gave another little throat-clearing cough (" _Hem, hem"_ ) and continued: "Well it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!" She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. "And to see such happy little faces looking back at me!"

Harish glanced around sceptically. None of the faces he could see looked happy; on the contrary, they all looked rather taken aback at being addressed as though they were five years old.

"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all, and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!"

Harish and the twins shared revolted looks.

Over at the Gryffindor table, Ron and Neville were barely able to contain sniggers as Parvati whispered loudly to Lavender, "I'll be her friend as long as I don't have to borrow that cardigan!"

Professor Umbridge cleared her throat again (" _Hem, hem"_ ), but when she continued, some of the breathiness had vanished from her voice. She sounded much more business-like and now her words had a dull learned-by-heart sound to them.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the Wizarding community must be passed down through the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge must be guarded, replenished, and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."

Professor Umbridge paused here and made a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back. Professor McGonagall's dark eyebrows had contracted so that she looked positively hawk-like, and she distinctly exchanged a glance with Professor Sprout as Umbridge gave another little " _Hem, hem"_ and went on with her speech.

"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts had brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that it is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation…"

Harish found his attentiveness ebbing, as though his brain was slipping in and out of tune. The quiet that always filled the Hall when Dumbledore was speaking was breaking up as students put their heads together, whispering and giggling. Over at the Ravenclaw table, some girls were chatting animatedly while Luna got _The Quibbler_ out again. Ron had fallen asleep at the Gryffindor table and two girls in his year were giggling. Meanwhile at the Hufflepuff table, Ernie Macmillan was one of the few still staring a Umbridge, but he was glassy-eyed and Harish was sure he was only pretending to listen in an attempt to live up to the new prefect's badge gleaming on his chest.

Professor Umbridge did not seem to notice the restlessness of her audience. Harish had the impression that a full-scale riot could have broken out under her nose and she would have plowed on with her speech. The teachers, however, were still listening very attentively, and Hermione seemed to be drinking in every word Umbridge spoke, though judging by her expression, they were not all to her taste.

"…because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgement. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."

She sat down. Dumbledore clapped. The staff followed his lead, though several of them only brought their hands together only once or twice before stopping. A few students joined in, but most had been taken unawares by the end of the speech, not having listened to more than a few words of it, and before they could start applauding properly, Dumbledore stood again.

"Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating," he said bowing to her. "Now—as I was saying, Quidditch try-outs will be held…"

"Yes it certainly was illuminating," Hermione muttered in a low voice.

"You're not telling me you enjoyed it?" Fred asked quietly, blinking the glazed look out of his eyes.

"That was about the dullest speech I've ever heard," George agreed. "And I grew up with Percy."

"I said it was illuminating, not enjoyable," Hermione retorted. "It explained a lot."

"Did it?" Harish asked in surprise. "It sounded like a load of waffle to me."

"There was important stuff hidden in the waffle," Hermione said grimly.

"Was there?" Draco asked blankly.

"How about 'progress for progress's sake must be discouraged'? How about 'pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited'?"

"Well what does that mean?" George questioned impatiently.

"It means," Hermione said darkly. "That the Ministry is interfering with Hogwarts."

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	102. Part 7: Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Seven: The Benefits of a Broken Leg**

The next morning, Harish woke and looked around to see that the twins had already left for breakfast. The young man dressed slowly, grabbed his school bag, and headed up the stairs to the common room. There, he found Hermione and Daphne at the top of the stairs that lead to the girls' dormitories.

"Did you sleep well?" Daphne asked as the three met halfway through the common room.

But Hermione cut across him before he had a chance to open his mouth.

"Oh for heaven's sake!"

She was staring at the common room notice board, where a large new sign had been put up.

 _ **Galleons of Galleons!**_

 _ **Pocket money failing to keep pace with your outgoings?**_

 _ **Like to earn a little extra gold?**_

 _ **Contact Fred and George Weasley, Slytherin common room, for simple, part-time, virtually painless jobs.**_

 _ **(We regret that all work is undertaken at applicant's own risk)**_

"Did you have anything to do with this?" Hermione asked, rounding on Harish.

Harish held up his hands in front of him.

"Well?" Hermione said. "Did you?"

"Uh…well…I might have—just _possibly_."

"This is ridiculous!" Hermione exclaimed. "It's one thing to try those things on yourselves, but on our _housemates_ as well?"

"Relax, Hermione," Harish said. "We've tested them on ourselves already. We just need to see if everyone reacts the same way. Besides. There are not any rules against it."

Hermione huffed and crossed her arms, but could not find an argument against that. Instead, she resigned herself to following Harish and Daphne out of the common room and up to the Great Hall in silence.

As he made his way to sit in his usual seat, Harish found his path blocked by Adrian Pucey and Hubert Warrington.

"What do you want?" Harish asked in a pained voice.

"We heard that you were made Quidditch Captain," Pucey grunted. "We want to know when Quidditch try-outs are."

"Next Saturday," Harish replied. "Now could I eat?"

The two sat down and Harish went to his usual spot to find that the twins were piling more food on their plates. He placed himself in between them and as Hermione across from Fred and next to Daphne, she said, "I'd forgotten that Flint left. I suppose that will make a difference to the team?"

"He _was_ a rather good chaser," Draco said, sitting on the other side of Daphne.

"Still, it won't hurt to have some new blood," Fred said.

"Will it?" George finished.

With a _whoosh_ and a clatter, hundreds of owls came soaring in through the upper windows. They descended all over the Great Hall, bringing letters and packages to their owners and showering the breakfasters with droplets of water; it was clearly raining hard outside. Augustus was nowhere to be seen, but Harish was hardly surprised. His father rarely wrote and if there was any information the young man needed, Voldemort would most likely not enclose it in a letter, which was easy for anyone to apprehend and read.

Hermione, however, had to move her orange juice aside quickly to make way for a large, damp barn owl bearing a sodden _Daily Prophet_ in its beak. Harish, of course, knew why she was still getting the newspaper even though most had stopped. Even though the _Prophet_ was still posting all that rubbish about Dumbledore, and spreading rumors about Harish, there was still valuable information hidden between the lines.

It had mostly to do with that saying, "Know thine enemy," and all that.

Minutes later, Snape walked past the group, handing out schedules. They all looked at their schedules, Draco muttering, "Care of Magical Creatures, double Potions, Arithmancy, and double Defense Against the Dark Arts…We have four periods stuck with the Gryffindors _and_ two of the most ridiculously difficult classes all in one day."

"But don't forget that Hagrid's gone," Daphne said hopefully. "We'll be having Grubbly-Plank."

"Still," Draco moped. " _Four_ classes with the Gryffindors. I wish Fred and George would hurry up with the Skiving Snackboxes."

"Do mine ears deceive me?" Fred asked, looking up from his own schedule at Draco. "Hogwarts prefects surely don't wish to skive off lessons?"

"Look what we've got today," Draco replied grumpily, shoving his schedule under Fred's nose. "That's the worst Monday I've ever seen."

"You can have a bit of Nosebleed Nougat cheap if you like," Fred said, looking at it.

"Why's it cheap?" Draco asked suspiciously.

"Because you'll shrivel up and die from a nosebleed," George replied.

"We haven't come up with an antidote yet," Fred explained, "and we ran out of things that will stem the bleeding."

"It could be worse," Harish said. "At least _you_ don't that Umbridge woman today."

"And you do?" Draco asked.

"Yes," Harish said curtly. He showed his schedule to the fifth years. "See? Defense Against the Dark Arts, 10:45."

"Of course," George said. "I guess we'll need to get moving. I'm sure you lot will be lining up, _begging_ to skive off soon enough."

"Why?" all three fifth years asked.

"Fifth year's OWL year," Fred said.

"So?" Hermione asked.

"So you've got exams coming up, haven't you? They'll be keeping your noses so hard to the grindstone they'll be rubbed raw," Fred replied with satisfaction.

"Half our year had minor breakdowns coming up to OWL's," George said happily.

"Tears and tantrums…Patricia Stimpson kept coming over faint…" Harish said.

"Kenneth Towler came out in boils, d'you remember?" Fred asked reminiscently.

"That's 'cause you got a Gryffindor to put Bulbadox Powder in his pajamas," George said.

"Oh yeah," Fred grinned. "I'd forgotten…Hard to keep track, sometimes, isn't it?"

"Anyway, it's a nightmare of a year, the fifth," George finished. "If you care about exam results anyway. Fred and I managed to keep our spirits up somehow."

"But you got three OWL's each," Harish muttered as if he thought they couldn't hear him.

"Yeah, well," Fred said unconcernedly. "Even you agree that we feel our futures lie outside the world of academic achievement."

"We seriously debated whether we were coming back for our seventh year," George added brightly. "Now that we've got the money to start the joke shop."

"But we didn't think Mum could take us leaving school early, not on top of Percy turning out to be the world's biggest prat.

"We're not going to waste our last year here, though," Fred said, looking affectionately around at the Great Hall.

"We're going to use it to do a bit of market research," Harish explained. "Find out exactly what the average Hogwarts student requires from his joke shop, carefully evaluate the results of our research, and then produce the products to fit the demand."

"And you're really going to use your winnings on this joke shop?" Hermione asked.

"What else would I use it for?" Harish responded with. "C'mon boys. If we get there early enough, we might be able to sell a few Extendable Ears before Potions."

And Harish led the twins away from the table, each red-head carrying a stack of toast.

They did indeed manage to sell a few Extendable Ears before Snape showed up and everyone hastily stuffed them away where they couldn't be seen. It wasn't against the rules to sell things at Hogwarts, but Snape would most likely confiscate them anyway.

Their Potions class was fairly normal. The only difference was that the potion they had to brew was just a little more difficult than normal. Then, once that class ended they made their way up to the Defense Against the Darks Arts classroom.

The class was quiet as it entered the room; Professor Umbridge was, as yet, an unknown quantity and nobody knew how strict a disciplinarian she was likely to be.

"Well, good morning!" she said when all of the Slytherins finally sat down.

A few people mumbled, "Good afternoon," in reply. Harish was sure it was the ones that had parents in the Ministry.

"Tut, tut," Umbridge simpered. " _That_ won't do, now will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good morning, Professor Umbridge.' One more time, please. Good morning class!"

Harish grimaced. He was a seventeen-year-old—an _adult_ —and he was being forced to act cheerful so early in the morning. _That_ was what wouldn't do.

"Good morning, Professor Umbridge," the rest of the class chanted.

Harish remained silent. Umbridge didn't seem to notice.

"There now," Umbridge said sweetly. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please."

Harish gritted his teeth and the twins exchanged gloomy looks. The order "wands away" had never yet been followed by a lesson they had found interesting. Harish shoved his wand back into his cane rather viciously and pulled a quill, ink, and parchment out of his bag. Professor Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand, which was an unusually short one, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once:

 _Defense Against the Dark Arts_

 _A Return to Basic Principles_

"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" stated Umbridge, turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her. "The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your NEWT year.

"You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy the following down, please."

She rapped the blackboard again; the first message vanished and was replaced by:

 _Course aims:_

 _Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic._

 _Learning to recognize situations defensive magic can legally be used._

 _Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use._

For a couple of minutes the room was full of the sound of scratching quills on parchment. When everyone had copied down Umbridge's three course aims she said, "Has everyone got a copy got _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

There was a dull murmur of assent throughout the class.

"I think we'll try that again," Umbridge said. "When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply 'Yes, Professor Umbridge,' or 'No, Professor Umbridge.' So has everyone got a copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

Harish gritted his teeth in annoyance and was clutching his cane really hard. It was beginning to heat up.

"Yes, Professor Umbridge," rang through the room.

"Good," Umbridge said. "I should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, 'Basics for Beginners.' There will be no need to talk."

She left the blackboard and settled herself in the chair behind the teacher's desk, observing them all with those pouchy toad's eyes. Most everyone turned to page five of their copies of _Defensive Magical Theory_ and began to read, but Harish, who had already read the entire book, sat looking around at the classroom.

Then, he turned and fixed his eyes on Umbridge, watching her, wondering what she would do when she saw him not obeying her instructions. After a second or so, he raised his hand.

Several minutes passed and Umbridge stared resolutely in the opposite direction. To Harish's right, George was twirling his quill in his fingers, staring glassy eyed at his book. To his left, Fred was flipping through the book, not even taken in a word.

After several more minutes passed, the other people in the classroom found the chapter so tedious, that they chose to watch Harish instead of read their chapter. It was somewhat unlike Harish to blatantly disobey instructions. Especially when they were given by a person that was important to the Ministry.

When more than half the class was staring at him rather than their books, Umbridge seemed to decide that she could ignore the situation no longer.

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" she asked, as though she had only just noticed him.

"Not about the chapter, no," Harish said, smiling pleasantly.

This was what alerted the other Slytherins. Most of them, being raised in houses where they learned to conceal their emotions, could tell that Harish was not really as happy as he seemed.

Umbridge, oblivious as ever, said, "Well, we're reading just now. If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."

She looked down, but Harish's hand remained in the air.

"Yes?" she said. The sweetness sounded much more forced. "What is it now?"

"I've already read it."

"Well, then read chapter two—"

"I've already read _that_. I've read the whole book. What am I supposed to do?"

Umbridge's nostrils flared.

"And you are—?"

"Harish Blake," he replied with another charming smile.

"Well then, Mr. Blake, you should be able to tell me what Slinkhard says about counterjinxes in chapter fifteen."

"He says they're not named properly," Harish said. "He says that 'counterjinx' just makes it sound more acceptable, but what should I _do?_ If all we're going to be doing in class is reading that book, well I might as well not attend."

Umbridge must have given up on trying to act sweet for she leapt to her feet, glaring daggers at him as if trying to dare him to undermine her authority.

"You will sit quietly and do as you are told, Mr. Blake," she said.

"But that's still not getting anything done," Harish said quietly, getting to his own feet. "That's not _doing_ anything."

"Obviously, your previous teachers have given you all too much license. You are children. You will do as you're told without questions. You don't need to _do_ anything."

"So we won't be using defensive spells?" Harish asked.

" _Using_ defensive spells? Why would you need to use spells in my class?"

"If we are to pass our NEWT's, we'll need to be able to perform them. So, if we don't practice the spells, how will we be able to cast them and pass our exams?" Harish asked.

"If you study the theory hard enough, you should be able to perform the spells perfectly. Now _sit_ , Mr. Blake. And the rest of you! Read chapter one."

Umbridge turned around and bustled back over to her desk, seating herself on her chair. Her eyes swept the classroom once more to find that Harish was still standing and was clutching his cane tightly.

"Why aren't you seated, Mr. Blake?" Umbridge asked in an ominously quiet voice.

"My leg needed a stretch, Professor," Harish replied innocently, indicating to his broken leg.

"Well I am sure it is stretched now," she said through gritted teeth. "You may sit."

"Actually, I think I'll go to the infirmary," Harish said. He flashed another smile, but this one was of pure evil. "You don't mind, do you?"

The entire class shuddered, but Umbridge did not seem to sense the magic that was stirring around Harish, nor the wickedness of his smile. All that she knew was that he was being a nuisance in _her_ class.

"By all means, go!" Professor Umbridge snapped, waving him out of the room.

Harish nodded and limped out of the room. Once the door was shut behind him, he grinned and began twirling his cane as he walked to the infirmary. He had found recently within the past two weeks that it no longer hurt to put pressure on his leg. Madam Pomfrey was probably able to take it off, but hadn't gotten around to calling him to the Hospital Wing.

Of course, as soon as Harish neared the infirmary, he began using his cane again, limping slowly to the Hospital Wing. Once there, he sat on the nearest bed with a groan. Walking on one leg was surprisingly painful.

Madam Pomfrey bustled over.

"Let's have a look at that leg of yours!" she exclaimed.

She took the cast off his leg and he found that it felt quite odd not to be wearing that cast; it was like he could almost still feel it there, even though he saw that it wasn't.

Madam Pomfrey inspected his leg and waved her wand over it. Then she had him do a number of exercises to prove that his leg was fine. Then, she let him go with a warning of, "Now be careful to take it easy this week! We don't want you hurting that leg again!"

"All right!" Harish said with a laugh, twirling his cane once more.

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	103. Part 7: Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Eight: Ministry Troubles**

Harish was glad he didn't have Defense Against the Darks Arts the next day. When he had said this to Fred and George they had questioned him, "Why did you argue with her?"

"We know she's with the Ministry."

"She's actually doing our side good!"

"Well she's not doing me good," Harish grumbled. "She talks to us as though we are toddlers even though we are adults too. She's not even preparing us for our NEWT's. At this rate, everyone in our year—and the fifth year—will flunk their exams."

Honestly, Harish didn't really care about people flunking their exams. The main thing was that he wanted to do something in his classes. It was pointless to go to a class that was already (in his opinion) pointless, and sit there not doing anything.

"I know she's helping us to some extent by keeping tabs on Dumbledore, but this is even more pointless! People aren't learning how to take care of themselves! This is making it were any person that might possibly join our side won't even know any spells that they could fight with. By doing this, she's hindering _both_ sides."

"So what do we do about it?" Fred asked.

"What?" Harish asked. "What do you mean?"

"What do we do about not being able to cast any spells?" George asked.

"I'm going to do some research," Harish replied shortly dropping his school bag onto a chair and heading off for the library.

The twins shook their heads. Fred, the most brash of the group, wanted to literally _do_ something about it. But no, Harish's solution was to go read a book!

Even with all of the controversy with Umbridge, the three of them were still working on their Skiving Snackboxes. That night they met with some first years that had come to them, looking to earn a bit of extra money.

Fred pulled out a paper bag and handed each of them a new sweet they had just come up with. Each of the short eleven-year-olds took a sweet and popped it into their mouths, chewing. Then, one by one, the first years slumped unconsciously in their seats as though hit by invisible mallets. Some slid right off their chairs and onto the floor while others hung over the arms of their chairs, their tongues lolling out. The people in the common room who had stopped to watch roared with laughter.

Hermione, however, got up from in between Draco and Daphne and marched straight over to where Harish and George were bending over the unconscious first years with clipboards.

"That's enough," she said to the three of them, all who looked at her in surprise.

"Yeah, you're right," George said, nodding, "this dosage looks strong enough, doesn't it?"

"It's all right to test this rubbish on yourselves, but other students?"

"We're paying them!" Fred said indignantly.

"I don't care, it could be dangerous!"

"Rubbish," Fred said.

"Calm down, Hermione, they're fine," Harish said reassuringly as he walked from first year to first year, inserting purple sweets into their open mouths.

"Yeah, look, they're coming round now," George said.

A few of the first years were indeed stirring. Several looked so shocked to find themselves lying on the floor, or dangling off their chairs, that it was evident the three seventh years had not warned them what the sweets would do.

"Feel all right?" Fred asked kindly to a small dark haired girl lying at his feet.

"I-I think so," she said shakily.

"Excellent," George said happily, making a note on his clipboard, but the nest second Hermione had snatched it and the paper bag out of the twins' hands.

"It is NOT excellent!"

"'Course it is, they're alive aren't they?" George retorted.

"You can't do this, what if you made one of them really ill?"

"We're not going to make them ill, we've already tested them all on ourselves. We just want to make sure everyone reacts the same—"

"If you don't stop doing it, I'm going to—"

"Put us in detention?" Fred asked in an I'd-like-to-see-you-try-it voice.

"Make us write lines?" George queried, smirking.

Onlookers in the room were laughing. Hermione drew herself up to her full height; her eyes were narrowed and her bushy hair seemed to crackle with electricity.

"No," she said, her voice quivering with anger, "but I will write to your mother."

"You wouldn't," George said, horrified, and took a step back from her.

"Oh, yes, I would," she said. "I can't stop you from eating the stupid things yourselves, but you're not going to give them to first years."

All three boys looked thunderstruck. With one last threatening look at them, she thrust the clipboard and paper bag back at George and stalked back to her chair by the fire.

"And I thought I had stamped that out of her," Harish said faintly.

"Where did we go wrong?" Fred wondered aloud, quietly.

George simply shook his head.

Tuesday morning dawned as gray and rainy as the previous one. In all of their classes, both the fifth years and the seventh years were receiving lectures for their upcoming exams that June. The fifth years found themselves with more homework that they thought possible, and the seventh years could only be glad that they had so many free periods.

On Wednesday, the Slytherin fifth years had their Defense Against Dark Arts class. While Harish had argued with Umbridge about the way she run the class, Hermione argued about the course aims, riling the whole class up. Nearly all of the students protested against the fact that they weren't going to be learning magic, and argued about when they would need defensive spells in the real world.

The rest of the week passed similarly for everyone. The main difference was that the twins had taken their poster off of the notice board, obviously taken Hermione's threat to heart.

Then, on Saturday, things picked up a bit.

Hermione received the paper as usual, skimming through it to see what the Ministry was up to. Then, she exclaimed quietly, "Oh no…Sirius!"

"What's happened?" Harish asked an he snatched the paper so violently it ripped down the middle so that that he and Hermione were holding half each.

"' _The Ministry of Magic has received a tip-off from a reliable source that Sirius Black, notorious mass murderer…_ ' blah, blah, blah… _'is currently hiding in London!'_ " Hermione read from her half in an anguished whisper.

"What was Sirius doing in London?" George asked.

"Undercover scouting for my dad," Harish said. "Though he was supposed to be in his animagus form. How did they know…?"

But Hermione kept reading aloud, "… _'Ministry warns Wizarding community that Black is very dangerous…killed thirteen people…broke out of Azkaban…'_ the usual rubbish," Hermione concluded, laying down her half of the paper and looking worriedly at Harish, who looked glumly at the bit of the Prophet he had torn off.

Most of the page was devoted to an advertisement for Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, which was apparently having a sale.

"Hey!" he said, flattening it down so the twins could see it. "Look at this!"

"We've got enough robes," George said.

"No," Harish protested, "look…this little piece here…"

Both Weasleys bent closer to read it; the item was barely an inch long and placed at the bottom of a column. It was headlined:

 **Trespass at Ministry**

 _Sturgis Podmore, 38, of number two, Laburnum Gardens, Clapham, has appeared in front of the Wizenagamot charged with trespass and attempted robbery at the Ministry of Magic on 31st August. Podmore was arrested by Ministry of Magic watch-wizard Eric Munch, who found him attempting to force his way through a top security door at one o'clock in the morning. Podmore, who refused to speak in his own defense, was convicted on both charges and sentenced to six months in Azkaban._

"Sturgis Podmore?" Fred said slowly. "He's that bloke who looks like his head's been thatched. He's one of the Order."

"Hey!" George exclaimed. "I heard Moody mutter something about him on the 1st! He was supposed to be part of the escort to the train station!"

"Yeah," Harish said. "And apparently he wouldn't give Moody's invisibility cloak back either. That's why he was showing Neville that picture at the party."

"What picture?" Hermione asked, curious.

"Nothing," Harish said. "Just some old picture, that's all."

Sunday evening as they were sitting in the common room, an owl flew over and dropped a letter on Fred's lap. Fred and George were sitting beside each other, planning out the antidote to the Nosebleed Nougat and Harish was sitting in a chair reading a book.

"Hermes!" George exclaimed at the sight of the owl.

"That's definitely Percy's handwriting," Fred said. " _'To Fred and George Weasley, Slytherin House, Hogwarts.'_ What d'you reckon?"

"Open it," Harish said.

Fred unrolled the scroll and began to read, George reading over his shoulder. The farther their eyes went down, the more pronounced their scowls got. When George had finished reading, he looked disgusted. Fred finished not long after and thrust the letter at Harish, who took it cautiously and read it.

 _Dear Fred and George,_

 _I have only heard (from no less a person than the Minister of Magic himself, who has it from your new teacher) that you two are still hanging around Harish Blake._

 _He has caused trouble for Madam Umbridge, suggesting that the Ministry is wrong in their teachings. I am sure you two are surprised to hear this—no doubt you will say that Blake has always been Slytherin House's favorite—but I feel bound to tell you that he may be in some serious trouble if this continues. Then, you two will most likely be dragged along into it._

 _I know you do not approve of Dumbledore, which is a good thing for I am afraid he may not be in charge at Hogwarts for much longer. I shall say no more here, but if you look at the Daily Prophet tomorrow you will get a good idea of the way the wind is blowing—and see if you can spot your truly!_

 _Seriously, boys, you do not want to be tarred with the same brush as Blake's. Of course, he is not the only one. I have sent a similar letter to Ron about his friend Neville Longbottom, an obvious Dumbledore lover. But this is not about Dumbledore. Harish Blake is a dark young man. As you should know, he speaks Parseltongue and has the potential to become the next Dark Lord._

 _It may be that you are afraid to sever ties with Blake—I know that he can be unbalanced and, for all I know, violent—but if you have any worries about this, or have spotted anything else in Blake's behavior that is troubling you, I urge you to go to Dolores Umbridge, a really delightful woman, who I know will be only too happy to advise you._

 _I am sorry I was unable to see you more over the summer. It pains me to criticize out parents, but I am afraid I can no longer live under their roof while they remain mixed up with the dangerous crowd around Dumbledore, as only you two could surely understand. I count myself lucky to have escaped the stigma of association with such people—the Minister really could not be more gracious to me—and I do hope, boys, that you will not allow family to blind you to the misguided nature of our parents' beliefs and actions either. I sincerely hope, that in time, they will realize how mistaken they were and I shall, of course, be ready to accept a full apology when that day comes._

 _Please think over what I have said, most particularly the bit about Harish Blake._

 _Your brother,_

 _Percy_

Harish looked up at the twins.

"Well," he said, sounding as though the whole thing was a joke, "If you want to—er—what is it?" (He checked Percy's letter.) "Oh yeah—'sever ties' with me, I swear I won't get violent."

Fred snatched it out of Harish's hand and ripped it up before throwing it into the fire.

"I thought you might react that way," Harish said with a smile. "C'mon. Let's go make those antidotes."

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	104. Part 7: Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Nine: Of Arguments and Detentions**

At breakfast Monday morning, Hermione received the paper and unrolled it, scanning the headline. Then she let out a huff of surprised annoyance.

"What is it?" Harish asked.

"Listen to this," Hermione said, quietly. "' _The Ministry seeks educational reform. Dolores Umbridge appointed first-ever 'High Inquisitor'.'_ "

"What's that?" Fred asked.

"A High Inquisitor?" George questioned.

"What does that _mean_?" Harish pondered.

Hermione read aloud:

" _In a surprise move last night the Ministry of Magic passed new legislation giving itself an unprecedented level of control at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

" _The Minister has been growing uneasy about goings-on at Hogwarts for some time,' said Junior Assistant to the Minister, Percy Weasley. 'He is now responding to concern voiced by anxious parents, who feel th school may be moving in a direction they do not approve.'_

" _This is not the first time in recent weeks Fudge has used new laws to effect improvements at the Wizarding school. As recently as August 30th Educational Decree Twenty-Two was passed, to ensure that, in the event of the current headmaster being unable to provide a candidate for a teaching post, the Ministry should select an appropriate person._

" _That's how Dolores Umbridge came to be appointed to the teaching staff at Hogwarts,' said Weasley last night. 'Dumbledore couldn't find anyone, so the Ministry put in Umbridge and of course, she's been an immediate success—"_

"She has _not_ ," Harish protested quietly. "The only people that like her are the students that come from neutral families, no offense, Daphne."

"None taken," she said.

"Wait, there's more," Hermione said. "'— _an immediate success, totally revolutionizing the teaching of Defense Against the Dark Arts and providing the Minister with on-the-ground feedback about what's really happening at Hogwarts.'_

" _It is this last function that the Ministry has now formalized with the passing of Educational Decree Twenty-three, which creates the new position of 'Hogwarts High Inquisitor.'_

" _This is an exciting new phase in the Minister's plan to get to grips with what some are calling the 'falling standards' at Hogwarts,' said Weasley. "The Inquisitor will have powers to inspect her fellow educators and make sure that they are coming up to scratch. Professor Umbridge has been offered this position in addition to her own teaching post, and we are delighted to say that she's accepted…'"_

"Will your new argument work on her then, Harish?" Fred asked.

"I'm not sure," Harish said, "but it's still worth a shot."

Once again, Umbridge was already seated at her desk as the class entered the room. They were quiet again, as they found that she was a rather disagreeable teacher after their first lesson. The entire class filed into their seats and all of the desks were filled except one that was situated between two identical red-heads.

Umbridge looked down at her roster, around at the class, and then back at the empty desk.

"Where is Mr. Blake?" she asked.

The twins shrugged. Everyone else looked at the empty seat curiously. Was Harish skipping class? Surely not…Normally he always attending classes, no matter how much he disliked them. Of course this was the first time they had ever had a teacher that refused to give them practice. The bell rang and they all wondered where he was.

Finally, Umbridge said sweetly, "Well. It seems he is not here for today. I would now like to ask you all to pull out your books and read chapter two. With your wands put away, please."

All of the students that had been mistaken enough to hope that they would be allowed to use their wands, tucked them away with sighs and pulled out their books. Then, the door to the classroom opened and Harish sauntered in.

His bookbag was thrown carelessly over his shoulder and his appearance was that of rebellion; his tie was untied and his face carried a look that dared them all to tell him to tie it. He had no quills, no paper, not even his textbook with him, but was carrying a library book.

"Five points from Slytherin for your tardiness, Mr. Blake," Umbridge said with a sweet, satisfied smile.

Harish didn't say a word, but threw his bookbag down under his desk and dropped into his seat, crossing his legs and looking at Umbridge defiantly. Then, he pulled out his library book and began reading.

At seeing that perhaps he wouldn't be a disturbance to her class again, Umbridge began grading papers. Time passed slowly with only the sounds of turning pages. Harish neared the end of his book and then closed it when he finished the last page.

Then, he raised his hand once more.

Again, he was not noticed by their professor, and again he received stares from the other students in the room. When Umbridge did notice, she seemed to have worked out her own strategy for dealing with him. Instead of trying to pretend she had not noticed Harish, she got to her feet and walked around to the back of the classroom until they were face-to-face, then she bent down and whispered so that the rest of the class could not head, "What is it this time, Mr. Blake?"

"I was just reading this library book to have something to do," he said. "And I noticed something odd in it."

"And what is that?"

"Well right here," Harish said, not whispering at all and pointing to the page, "it says _'The Wizarding Examinations Authority works closely with the School Board of Governors, but is not under the control of the school or the Ministry. They are tasked with giving standard exams to the students of Hogwarts, for which they have set standards for each class. For example, core class_ (meaning Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts) _must have both a theory portion and a practical portion so that the students may excel in their exams.'_ "

"Are you a Ministry official, Mr. Blake?"

"No, but this book—"

"Then I am going to have to take another five points from Slytherin," she said, finally raising her voice above a whisper.

"What for?" Fred asked suddenly.

Umbridge looked around in surprise. She had not realized that half of the had been watching and the rest were only pretending to read, listening intently.

"For disrupting my class with pointless interruptions," Umbridge said smoothly. "I am here to teach you using a Ministry-approved method that does not include inviting students to give their opinions on matters which they do not understand. Your previous teachers may have allowed more license, but as none of them—with the possible exception of Professor Quirrel, who did at least appear to have restricted himself to age-appropriate subjects—would have passed a Ministry inspection—"

"That was only because he was afraid of his own shadow!" Harish protested, leaping out of his chair. "And while we're on this subject, what _do_ you deem age-appropriate for us? Let me ask the class a question," he looked around at the classroom. "How many of you are of age?"

Every single hand in the room rose.

"So, _Professor,_ we're all adults here," he said. "And you are having us read this garbage, trying to brainwash us into believing that defending ourselves is wrong!"

Umbridge drew herself to her full height (which wasn't that impressive) and exclaimed, "Detention, Mr. Blake! Meet me in my office a five o'clock tonight, and maybe then you'll learn to hold your tongue."

Harish's jaw clenched and his knuckles turned white from holding his cane so tight. Then, he closed his book, shoved it violently into his bag, swung his bag over his shoulder and strode swiftly out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

One minute later, the bell rang and the twins hurried to catch up with him on the way to the common room to drop their things off before lunch. Once they were in the safety of the common room, Harish threw his bag onto the chair and rounded on his two friends.

"You were right," he said. "Talking to Umbridge will _not_ work."

The twins nodded gratefully.

"So I am going to start a secret army."

Both twins' jaws dropped and they stared at Harish as though he grew another head.

"Don't look at me like that," Harish said. "If Umbridge is brainwashing students to believe they can't defend themselves, we need to _unbrainwash_ them."

That evening, Harish rushed through dinner before heading to Umbridge's office at five minutes until five. The boy ran into the Entrance Hall and paused when he reached the foot of the staircase. After a fleeting memory of the sensation of falling backwards, Harish took a deep breath and slowly climbed the staircase. When he knocked on the door she said, "Come in," in a sugary voice. He entered cautiously, looking around.

He had seen this office under two of its previous occupants. In the days when Gilderoy Lockhart had lived there it had been plastered in beaming portraits of its owner. When the imposter Moody had occupied it, it had been packed with various instruments and artifacts for the detection of wrongdoing and concealment.

Now, however, it looked totally unrecognizable. The surfaces had all been draped in lacy covers and cloths. Everything was so _pink_ it was revolting. There were several vases full of dried flowers, each residing on its own doily, and on one of the walls was a collection of ornamental plates, each decorated with a large Technicolored kitten wearing a different bow around its neck. These were so foul that Harish stared at them, transfixed, until Umbridge spoke again.

"Good evening, Mr. Blake."

Harish schooled himself to keep from jumping and then turned to face her desk. He had not noticed her at first because she was wearing a shockingly flowered set of robes that blended only too well with the tablecloth on the desk behind her.

"Evening," Harish replied stiffly.

"Well, sit down," she said, pointing to a small table draped in lace beside which she had drawn up a straight backed chair. A piece of blank parchment lay on the table, apparently waiting for him.

"You are going to be doing some lines for me, Mr. Blake. No, not with your quill," she added as Harish bent down to open his bag. "You're going to be using a rather special one of mine. Here you are."

Harish took it apprehensively. It was a long, thin black quill with an unusually sharp point.

"I want you to write _'I will do as I'm told,'_ " she told him softly.

"How many times?" Harish asked, with a credible imitation of politeness.

"Oh, as long as it takes for the message to _sink in_ ," Umbridge said sweetly. "Off you go."

She moved over to her desk, sat down, and bent over a stack of parchment that looked like essays for marking. Harish raised the sharp black quill and then realized what was missing.

"You haven't given me any ink," he said.

"Oh, you won't need ink," Umbridge said with the slightest laugh in her voice.

That sent up warning flags right there, but instead of saying something, Harish decided to keep quiet, place the point of the quill on the paper, and write _I will do as I'm told._

He let out a gasp of pain. The words had appeared on the parchment in what appeared to be shining red ink. At the same time, the words had appeared on the back of Harish's right hand, cut into his skin as though traced there by a scalpel—yet even as he stared at the shining cut, the skin healed over again, leaving the place where it had been slightly redder than before but quite smooth.

Harish looked around at Umbridge. She was watching him, her wide, toad-like mouth stretched in a smile.

"Yes?"

"Nothing," Harish replied quietly.

He looked back at the parchment, placed the quill upon it once more, wrote _I will do as I'm told,_ and felt the searing pain on the back of his hand for a second time; once again the words had been cut into his skin, once again they healed over seconds later.

And on it went. Again and again Harish wrote the words on the parchment in what he soon came to realize was his own blood. And again and again the words were cut into the back of his hand, healed, and then reappeared the next time he set the quill to the parchment.

Darkness fell outside Umbridge's window. Harish did not ask when he would be allowed to stop. He did not even check his watch. He figured it would be futile to ask; she would let him go only when she felt it had been long enough. Surely if Harish asked, she would simply delay his departure because she felt that he had not felt enough pain…

"Come here," she said after what seemed hours.

He stood up. His hand was stinging painfully. When he looked down at it, he saw that the cut had healed, but that the skin there was red raw.

"Hand," she said.

He extended it. She took it in her own. He repressed a hiss of pain as she touched it with her thick, stubby fingers on which she wore a number of ugly rings.

"Tut, tut, I don't seem to have made much of an impression yet," she said, smiling. "Well, we'll just have to try again, won't we? Sit."

Harish gave her a look of pure loathing and sat himself in the seat before continuing writing _I will do as I'm told_ over and over until Harish's hand felt like a hundred bees had stung it at once and the page was full of blood red words.

Harish noticed that the more he wrote, the longer it was taking for the cut to heal over again. After one line, it healed over within a minute and the skin was even more irritated; red and inflamed. After five lines it was swollen and he could see a faint outline of letters. After twenty lines, it took five whole minutes to heal.

But still he wrote and he wrote until Umbridge called him over again. When he gave her his hand, he saw that the cut had not yet healed and the words _I will do as I'm told_ shone painfully clear.

"That seemed to do it, didn't it?" she asked. "You may go."

Harish did not say a word, but lifted his bag over his shoulder and left without a glance behind him. The school was quite deserted by then; it was surely past midnight. He walked slowly down the stairs, turned the corner, and broke into a run when he was sure she could not hear him.

He had not practiced nonverbal Vanishing Spells, had not finished his Arithmancy worksheet, and had not drawn a diagram of a thestrals, nor had he written his essays. But he fell into his bed fully clothed and closed his eyes, his hand still stinging.

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	105. Part 7: Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Ten: Teams, Quidditch or Otherwise**

That Saturday was the day of the Slytherin Quidditch team tryouts. Harish got up reasonably early that morning and changed into his Quidditch robes. Then, he ate a slow breakfast before heading down to the Quidditch pitch. As no one was there yet, Harish climbed aboard his broom and flew several exhilarating loops around the stadium.

One of the things about having a broken leg was that he had been forbidden to fly. The cast made him unbalanced and more likely to crash and hurt himself more, or that was at least what his father had told him. That meant that this was the first time Harish had gotten on his broom since the summer before his sixth year; they hadn't had any Quidditch that year because of the Triwizard Tournament, obviously.

It felt good to be on a broom again.

After Harish touched down and walked to stand in the center of the field, people started showing up for the tryouts. Among them were Draco, Fred, George, Pucey, Warrington, and several others. But it also seemed that the entire Slytherin House had shown up, proving this to take all morning.

Harish decided to start with the Chasers. He told everyone that was trying for a different position to clear off, and then started with a basic test, having the ones who were trying for Chaser (which was the most out of all the applicants) to fly once around the Quidditch pitch in groups of tens.

This turned out to be a good decision, for the first group comprised of first years that couldn't keep their brooms straight. Only one boy had managed to remain airborne and he was so surprised that he had promptly crashed into one of the goalposts.

The second group was a large gaggle of girls from ages fourteen to sixteen who, when he blew his whistle, merely fell about giggling and clutching one another. When he told them to leave the pitch, they did so cheerfully and went to sit in the stands.

The third group had a pileup halfway around the pitch. Most of the fourth group had come without broomsticks.

After two hours, many complaints, and several tantrums, one involving a crashed Nimbus 2000 and several broken teeth, Harish had found himself three Chasers: Draco, who returned to the team after an excellent trial, Hubert Warrington, who proved to be a better flyer than he let on, and Ginny, who had out-flown all of the competition.. This of course did not make Pucey very happy, and he stormed off the pitch, raging about how Harish had let a Weasley beat him.

Harish was partly glad to see him go. He didn't act very sportsman-like.

Pleased as he was with his choices, Harish had also shouted himself hoarse at the many complainers and was now enduring a similar battle with the Beaters.

"That's my final decision and if you don't get out of the way for the Keepers, I'll hex you," he bellowed.

Of course for the Beaters he had chosen the twins. And he had not just done it because they were his friends; the twins worked together like an unbeatable, well-oiled machine. That didn't stop the outcry of many bigoted Slytherins at the appointment of three Weasleys on the team.

After a short competition, Miles Bletchley was reinstated as the Slytherin Keeper. He proved that he had not lost his old brilliance and no one had managed to beat him.

Of course there were no try-outs for the Seeker position, as that was what he was himself. So, with the try-outs finally done, Harish told his new team that there were going to have practices every Wednesday. Then, in the two weeks leading up to the first match of the season, they were going to have practices three times a week. With that said, he let them go and he, the twins, Draco, and Ginny were joined by Daphne and Hermione on the way back to the common room.

When they entered the common room, Harish told everyone, "Clear out."

Not surprisingly, all of the other Slytherins hopped out of their seats as if burned and scuttled off to their dormitories. Then, Harish settled himself on a chair and turned to his friends.

"For those of you who do not know," (which meant everyone but the twins), "I have decided to start a secret army in order to train students to think individually for themselves."

"Yes," Hermione said. "I was starting to think of something like that, except I was going more along the lines of a secret class taught by you."

"Out of curiosity," Harish said. "Why me?"

"Well," Hermione said. "I mean you've done all that stuff. Stole the stone, defeated the diary, got rid of _all_ those dementors, _and_ you made it through the tournament pretty well, not to mention held your own when you were attacked immediately afterward."

Harish nodded.

"So, what I was thinking," he continued. "Was that we gather a list of those who we might invite, watch them for a week or so, and when we determine that they won't tell on this secret group (mainly to Umbridge) we could invite them to the Room of Requirement to settle things."

"So who would you invite?" George questioned.

"Oh, I have just a few people in mind," Harish replied with a smile.

Meanwhile, Neville and Ron were sitting in the Gryffindor common room. Ron was once again regaling the story of how he made Keeper for the Quidditch team to any of those who would listen. Seamus was encouraging him while Dean sat nearby, rolling his eyes. Why Angelina let that braggart on the team was beyond him. When he had asked her about it, she had told him:

"I know he's got some issues with his ego," Angelina said. "But he _did_ win at the try-outs."

Of course what she meant by ego was unclear. The seventh year could have been speaking of the boy's swollen head. How he had been bragging about it to anyone who would listen for the past week and a half. Or, she could have been referring to the fact that when he was nervous (which was basically when anyone was watching) Dean's year mate could not save a single goal, nor catch a Quaffle when it is tossed _lightly_ to him.

"During the match," Angelina said to him. "You'll just have to catch that Snitch as soon as possible; before the Slytherins can score any goals."

Dean nodded sadly, knowing then that it was futile. He was up against _Harish Blake_ , after all. With that young man, the Slytherin team was practically unbeatable. No wonder he had been chosen as Slytherin's team captain.

"…of course," Ron was saying. "Slytherin won't stand a chance. Not while I'm on the team. Not a single ball will get past me."

"Well," Dean said, finally fed up, as he turned to face Ron. "You sing an entirely different tune during practice. Didn't poor Katie get sent to the Hospital Wing because you beaned her with the Quaffle."

"It was an accident," Ron said. "I just got a little excited, is all."

"What about the one hundred and thirteen times you've dropped the Quaffle? Yes, I've been counting."

"You just don't support me because of Blake," Ron growled.

"Do I?" Dean asked. "Well, maybe I'm friends with him for a good reason."

"What reason would that be?" Ron asked sarcastically.

"Because you're a prat and I don't see how all the boys in our year hang out with you."

Ron's mouth dropped open, but he quickly closed it.

"Ron—" Neville tried to say, but the Weasley cut across him.

"Why don't you stay out of this, Neville?" Ron retorted. "You wouldn't understand."

Everyone nearby got the message Ron was sending across loud and clear; obviously he thought Neville was too dumb to understand. He thought Neville was just someone that would follow Ron because he had no guts or ambition to do anything else. Well, Neville decided that that was going to change today.

Didn't it seem like Blake, the boy Ron had said was going Dark for ages, was nicer than his own friend? Dean himself wasn't all that bad either. And Neville noticed for the first time that Dean had no friends in their house. In their first year, Dean had hung out with Seamus, but he had always seemed like a loner. Then, when Seamus started hanging out with Ron, Dean had started hanging out with Blake.

Well, Neville had made up his mind.

He stood up and asked coolly, "I wouldn't would I? Well, I understand enough that I can do better than have a horrible friend like you."

And he strode over to Dean and stood in front of him.

"Do you know where I could speak to Harish Blake?"

Dean grinned.

"That I do, my friend."

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	106. Part 7: Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven: In the Room of Requirement**

"How many people are coming?" Draco asked as Harish's close group of friends waited in the Room of Requirement.

"Just a few that I've invited," Harish replied simply.

He was lounging on a rather comfortable chair the room had provided. The young man actually felt that the room had outdone itself that time. The seven of them had paced to and fro in front of the stretch of wall that the Room of Requirement appeared, thinking something along the lines of _"We need somewhere to practice were they can't find us…"_

After three paces, a pair of doors had materialized in the previously empty wall. Harish had seized the brass handle, pulled the door open, and led the way into a rather spacious room lit with flickering torches like those in the dungeons.

The walls were lined with book cases, and the room seemed to have two sections; a sitting area where there was a chair and several silk floor cushions beside the bookshelves, and a large open space that was obviously for dueling.

Harish was seated on the chair and the twins were both sitting on floor cushions. Draco was also seated on a cushion in between Daphne and Ginny, and Hermione was perusing through the books, occasionally saying something like, " _A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions,_ that'll come in handy!"

There was a knock on the door. Harish looked around; The first group had arrived, consisting of Dean, Neville, Angelina, and Katie Bell.

"Whoa," Neville said, staring around, impressed. "What is this place?"

He started to explain, but before he had finished more people walked through the door. This group included a girl named Cho Chang, Luna Lovegood, Roger Davies, Michael Corner, and Terry Boot. Then, not long afterwards, a gaggle of Hufflepuffs entered: Justin Finch-Fletchley, Ernie Macmillan, and two girls that hung out with them.

Once he was sure everyone was there and seated on the cushions, Harish hopped out of his seat, moved across to the door, and turned the key in the lock; it clicked in a satisfying sort of way and everyone fell silent, looking at him.

"Well," Harish said, finally sitting in his chair once again and looking down at the others. "You all know why you are here. We need a teacher—a _proper_ teacher. I know Umbridge says You-Know-Who isn't back. Perhaps he's not. But she is also trying to convince us that defending ourselves is wrong. And there is nothing worse with her logic than that. We are all old enough to think for ourselves, so it is time we took action and stood up for what we need—proper training that might help us pass our exams."

"Hear, hear!" Anthony Goldstein said, earning smiles and nods from everyone else.

"And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just theory but the spells—"

"You want to pass your NEWT's as well, then?" Angelina asked.

Harish nodded. "As I'm sure all of the fifth years here would like to pass their OWL's. But more than that, I want you all to be able to think for yourselves, have a little fun, and be rebellious now and then."

"Coming from the three biggest pranksters in the school," one of the Hufflepuff girls muttered with a smile.

"A bit of rule breaking is good for you, now and then," George protested.

"As is a little rule _following,_ " Harish said. "Which is why we're here. To learn when we need to fight, and when we need to submit. I tried standing up to Umbridge, but it soon became evident that doing so directly was not a good idea." His hand tightened on his cane and the words _'I will do as I'm told_ ' shone white against the rest of his hand. "So I had to take a different approach."

"Is it true that you can produce a patronus charm?" the other Hufflepuff girl asked suddenly.

There was a murmur of interest around the group at this.

"Yes," Harish replied.

"A corporeal patronus?"

"What is your name?" Harish asked.

"Susan Bones," she said with a smile. "My aunt works with the Ministry. So—is it true? You make a snake patronus?"

"Yes," Harish said again.

"Blimey, Harish," Dean said looking impressed. "I never knew that!"

"And did you really defeat a demon in the Chamber of Secrets?" Terry Boot demanded. "That's what one of the portraits in Dumbledore's office told me when I was in there last year…"

"Yes, I did," Harish said, taken aback. It seemed that nothing was kept a secret at Hogwarts—except this group so far.

Justin Finch-Fletchley whistled, the two Hufflepuff girls exchanged looks, and Cho Chang muttered "wow" under her breath.

"And last year he made first place in all of the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament—getting past dragons and merpeople and acromantulas and things…"

"And that's not to mention the fact that he managed to fend off an attack right after the third task." Hermione said.

Obviously word had gotten out about why Harish was in the Hospital Wing at the end of the previous year. Of course it helped that they had not had a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher the last few weeks of school; Jugson had fled when his identity had been discovered.

There was a murmur of impressed agreement around the table. Harish forced his face not to show his pleasure; his plan was working very well.

"So…" he said after a pause. "We know where we can have meetings, but how do we determine when we meet? I don't think there's any point in meeting less than once a week—"

"Hang on," Angelina interrupted. "We need to make sure this doesn't clash with our Quidditch practice."

"No," Cho agreed. "Nor with ours."

"I know," Harish said. "Nor ours—I'm sure we can find an evening that suits everyone. But this is rather important, we're talking about learning how to defend ourselves against attacks."

"Well said!" Ernie Macmillan barked. "Personally I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we'll do this year, even with our OWL's coming up!"

He looked around impressively, as though waiting for people to cry, "Surely not!"

When no one spoke, he went on, "I, personally, am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher upon us at this critical period. Obviously they are in denial about the return of You-Know-Who, but to give us a teacher who is trying to prevent us from using defensive spells—"

"Personally," Draco said. "I think the reason Umbridge doesn't want us trained in Defense Against the Dark Arts is because the Ministry thinks that Dumbledore is raising an army. They think he'd mobilize us against the Ministry."

Nearly everyone looked stunned at this. Draco, being a pureblood, was not one to be expected to have to do with Muggle-borns and blood-traitors, so he was surprising them all just by attending. But the fact that his father worked in the Ministry gave him a credibility in that particular subject. The only one who was surprised was Luna, who piped up, "Well that makes sense since Fudge has his own private army."

"What?" Harish asked in confusion.

"Yes, he's got an army of heliopaths," Luna replied solemnly.

"No he hasn't," Hermione snapped.

"Yes, he has," Luna said.

"What are heliopaths?" Neville asked, looking blank.

"They're spirits of fire," Luna said, her protuberant eyes widening so that she looked madder than ever. "Great tall flaming creatures that gallop across the ground burning everything in front of—"

"They don't exist, Neville," Hermione added tartly.

"Oh yes they do!" Luna protested angrily.

"I'm sorry, but where's the _proof_ of that?" Hermione snapped.

"There are plenty of eyewitness accounts, just because you're so narrow-minded you need to have everything shoved under your nose before you—"

" _Hem, hem_ ," Ginny interrupted, sounding so much like Umbridge that several people looked around in alarm and then laughed. "Weren't we trying to decide how often we're going to meet and get Defense lessons?"

"Yes," Hermione said at once, "Yes, we were, you're right…"

"Well, once a week sounds fine," Dean said.

"As long as—" Angelina began.

"Yes, yes, we know about Quidditch," Daphne said.

"So when is everyone's practices?" Harish asked.

"Ours are on Fridays," Angelina said.

"Saturday," Cho informed them.

"And Slytherins are on Wednesdays," Harish told them.

"So how about…Mondays?" Everyone nodded. "Eight o'clock next Monday evening?"

Everyone nodded their agreement.

"And before we leave," Hermione said. "I-I think everyone should write their name, just so that we know who was here. But I also think," she took a deep breath, "that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we're doing. So if you sign, you're agreeing not to tell Umbridge—or anyone else—what we're up to."

Fred reached out for the parchment and cheerfully put down his signature, but Harish noticed at once that several people looked less than happy at the prospect of putting their names on the list. George signed it as well and tried to pass it to Ernie, but he hesitated. Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.

"I—well, we are _prefects_ ," Ernie burst out. "And if this list was found…well, I mean to say…you said yourself if Umbridge finds out…"

"We are not doing anything wrong," Harish interjected.

"Are you sure?" Michael Corner asked. "I mean, Umbridge won't be too happy if she finds out—"

"I'm sure," Harish said firmly. "I owled the Wizarding Examinations Authority and they told me that I could start this group. They even gave me a permit." He waved a slip of paper under their noses. "See? We are outside the Ministry _and_ the Board of Governors' authority!"

Everyone looked surprised at his forethought, but they all put their names down without any more arguments. Finally, Harish was the last one to sign it and he handed it back to Hermione, who tacked it up on a cork board that had just appeared. There was an odd feeling in the group now. It was as though they had just signed some kind of contract.

"Well," Draco said, hopping to his feet and clapping his hands together. "I have some essays to finish, if you'll excuse me."

At that, the rest of the crowd dispersed until it was just Harish, the twins, and Hermione.

"I think that went rather well," Harish said.

Hermione went over to the cork board and started waving her wand around.

"What are you doing?" Harish asked.

"I'm making sure no one will tell on us without us knowing," Hermione replied.

Harish got up as well and said, "I have an idea on the name of the group. May I?"

Hermione stepped to the side and Harish placed a quill to the parchment, writing in large letters DARK ARMY.

"Harish," Hermione said. "I'm not sure—"

"Can you cast a spell on the name?" Harish interrupted.

"What?"

"Can you cast a spell on the name to make it read whatever the person reading it expects?"

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	107. Part 7: chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I do not Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Twelve: The Hand in the Fire**

Harish found his schedule very full and it was only the fifth week of school. Every day he had homework in almost every subject. On top of that, he had to plan and manage Quidditch practices each Wednesday. Now, he had planning for the DA to do.

Although his schedule was so full, Harish still managed to find free time on weekends to lounge around or enjoy the sunshine; he knew it wouldn't last. Soon enough, the summer sun would be gone and he would not be able to sit in it until after their NEWT's.

Even when he did homework, he would take it outside and sit in the shade of a secluded tree. With the twins of course. It was hard to find him without them. They were as much his act-body guards then as they were seven years ago.

It was so hard to comprehend that only seven years previous he had been a scrawny little eleven-year-old that cared of nothing more than pulling pranks. He had changed so much since then. Not only did he and the twins not have enough time to really pull pranks any more, but they were more mature and looked much different.

Then, of course, there was also the fact that after Harish had started the DA, he felt different. That he was actually a part of something big. And he played a major role in the DA as well. Just the knowledge that he was doing something against Umbridge and the Ministry, but helping his father at the same time gave Harish an immense satisfaction.

Harish and the twins walked up from their dormitory on Thursday morning, discussing the new tactics Harish was planning on teaching the Slytherins, and not until they were halfway across the dimly lit common room did they notice the addition to the room that had already attracted the attention of a small group of people.

A large sign had been affixed to the Slytherin notice board, so large that it covered everything else on there—the lists of second hands spell-books for sale, the regular reminders of school rules from Filch, the Quidditch team training schedule, the offers to barter certain Chocolate Frog cards for others, the Weasleys' new advertisement for testers, the dates of the next Hogsmeade weekend (which just happened to be _that_ weekend, and the lost-and-found notices. The new sign was printed in large black letters and there was a highly official-looking seal at the bottom beside a neat and curly signature.

—by order of—

 **The High Inquisitor of Hogwarts**

All Student Organizations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs are henceforth disbanded. An Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students.

Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor (Professor Umbridge).

No Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor.

Any Student found to have formed, or to belong to an Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled.

 _The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four._

Signed:

Dolores Jane Umbridge

High Inquisitor

Harish and the twins read the notice over a short group of anxious looking first years.

"Does this mean the four of us won't be able to study in the library each day?" one asked.

"You know," Harish said pleasantly, causing the four eleven-year-olds to jump. "I think you should go and ask. And tell all your friends that if they have study groups or groups of friends that consist of three or more friends, I would go ahead and ask the High Inquisitor. You never know how serious she's taking this."

The first years nodded gratefully and scampered nervously away. Then, as they backed away slightly to let a group of fourth years read it, the twins both turned to Harish.

"Do you think she knows?" Fred asked.

"It can't be a coincidence," George muttered darkly.

"She could have very well seen twenty students heading for the Room of Requirement," Harish replied. "I wouldn't rule out anything."

Suddenly Draco appeared at Harish's elbow.

"She knows," he said, gesturing to the poster. "Do you think any of the ones we invited could have told?"

"I doubt it," Harish said. "I looked specifically for ones that were trustworthy."

"Do you think the girls have seen it yet?" Fred wondered.

"We could go see," George suggestion.

The four of them walked over to the staircase that led down to the girls' dormitories and Fred began walking down it. After only two or three steps, the stairs started moving upward and Fred was propelled backwards into the other three.

A pair of girls came zooming up the escalator with gleeful expressions on their faces.

"Who tried to get downstairs?" one asked with a successful smile. She had light brown hair that was braided down her back.

The other one was not smiling, had her arms crossed, and looked ready to rip someone's head off. She had dark hair and looked very scary to anyone who had seen her at that moment.

Fred was about to fess up, but when he caught sight of the angry girl, he faltered, "Oh—I don't know—just got here."

"Was it you?" the dark-haired girl asked fiercely, starting forward angrily.

"It's fine, Charis," Hermione said. She, Daphne, and Ginny had just gotten to the foot of the stairs. "They mean no harm."

The girl, Charis, did not look convinced. She stalked off, still scowling at Fred.

"You're allowed in our dormitory," Fred said. "How come we're not allowed—"

"Well, it's an old-fashioned rule," Hermione said as she finally made it to the top of the stairs, "but it says in _Hogwarts: A History_ that the founders thought boys were less trustworthy than girls. Why were you trying to get in there anyway?"

"To see you—look at this!" Fred said, steering her over to the notice board.

Hermione's eyes slid rapidly down the notice. The other two girls read it from behind her and Fred. All of their expressions became stony.

"You see? Someone must have snitched to her," Draco said, putting an arm around Ginny.

"They can't have done," Hermione said in a low voice.

"You're so naïve," Draco said, "you think just because you're all honorable and trustworthy—"

"No, they can't have done because I put a jinx on that piece of parchment we all signed," she replied grimly. "Believe me, if anyone's run off and told Umbridge, we'll know exactly who they are and they will really regret it."

"What'll happen to them?" Fred asked eagerly.

"Let me put it this way," Hermione said, "it'll make Eloise Midgen's acne look like a couple of cute freckles. Come on, let's get down to breakfast and see what the others think…I wonder whether this has been put up in all of the Houses?"

It was immediately apparent on entering the Great Hall that Umbridge's sign had not only appeared in the Slytherin common room. There was a peculiar intensity about the chatter and an extra measure of movement in the Hall as people scurried up and down their tables conferring on what they had read. As they walked down the aisle in between their table and Hufflepuff's, they could hear:

"Did you see it?"

"Do you think she'd let Gobstones continue?"

"Can we still meet in the courtyard to do homework?"

The last question was between a group of fifth year girls. Harish paused and said with a hidden smirk, "I wouldn't bet on it. Not unless you ask, anyway."

When they all sat down in the center of the Slytherin table, the others asked quietly.

"What are we going to do?"

They were all looking at Harish. He glanced around to make sure there were no teachers near them.

"We're going to do it anyway, of course," he said quietly. "It's not like we're breaking any rules—still."

"Knew you'd say that," Fred said, beaming.

"And the prefects as well?" George asked, looking quizzically at Hermione and Draco.

"Of course," Hermione replied coolly.

"Here comes Ernie and Hannah Abbot," Draco said, looking over his shoulder. " _And_ those Ravenclaw blokes and the four Gryffindors…and no one looks very spotty."

Hermione looked alarmed and Harish shook his head in annoyance.

"Never mind the spots," he said. "The idiots can't come over here now, it would look really suspicious—sit down!" he mouthed to Ernie and Hannah, gesturing to them to rejoin the Hufflepuff table. "We will talk to you later!"

Luckily, the tables were so close together, the two were able to make it look like they had simply left their table and were headed out of the Great Hall.

"I'll get the Ravenclaws," Draco said, hopping off his bench. "I'm not hungry anyway."

"And I'll get the Gryffindors," Fred said. "I'm done eating."

The two met the others halfway across the Great Hall and spoke to them. The Ravenclaws and Gryffindors went back and sat at their respective tables, and the two Slytherins exited the Hall. Harish shook his head as he watched. He and George ate as quickly as possible.

While Harish was shoveling porridge into his mouth, Augustus landed on the table and stuck his leg out. Harish untied a letter and gave the smoky-colored a piece of bacon. Augustus stayed, meaning the sender was most likely wanting a reply. Then, he looked at the letter. It read " _Harish Blake"_ in an untidy scroll that was certainly not his father's.

"I guess Sirius was called home after the sighting," he muttered.

He opened the letter. As usual, it was very short:

 _Harry,_

 _Owl if you can meet me in our usual spot tomorrow, Friday the second._

Harish grabbed a quill and jotted his reply down as quickly as he could on the back of the note and sent it off with Augustus. Then he and George hurried toward the double doors of the Great Hall. Before they managed to get into the Entrance Hall, Angelina caught them, looking desperate.

"You do know what this means, don't you?" she asked, referring to the ban on organizations.

"Don't worry," Harish said. "I told you all we are not doing anything wrong—"

"No," Angelina said over him. "She's including Quidditch in this. As team captains, we have to go and ask permission to re-form our teams!"

" _What?"_ Harish asked in annoyance.

"No way," George said, appalled.

So after classes, Harish stopped by Umbridge's office and asked to reform the Slytherin team. She didn't not give him permission, however.

In fact, she simply smiled widely and said, "I will think about it."

Nothing interesting happened the rest of that day, so we will rejoin Harish as he sat waiting on the common room to clear out. While he waited, he worked on his homework, glancing up at the fire and the rest of the common room every now and then.

As they had just perfected their Puking Pastilles, the twins were demonstrating as Harish tried very hard to concentrate on his homework.

First, Fred would take a bite out of the orange end of a chew, at which he would vomit spectacularly into a bucket they had charmed to clean itself and placed in front of them. Then, he would force down the purple end of the chew, at which the vomiting would immediately cease.

As Fred did this, George went around taking advance orders from the crowd.

They had asked Harish if he had wanted to help, but he was completely against making himself throw up, so he had settled on watching the fire.

Finally the twins stopped their demonstration and sat on either side of Harish. Then, Fred began doing his homework while George counted their takings. Since the show was over, everyone else eventually slunk out of the common room and went off to bed.

Once or twice Harish could have sworn he had seen something flash in the fire—something flesh colored—for only a second. The second time he saw it, he got up and peered into the fire.

"Harish?" Fred asked, looking up from his own homework. "What're you doing down there?"

"I just saw his head," Harish replied.

"His head?" George questioned. "Like how he talked to you last year—? Sirius!"

Harish looked back at the flames to see Sirius's head sitting in the dancing flames, his long dark hair falling around his grinning face.

"I was starting to think you would go to bed before everyone disappeared," he said. "I've been checking every hour."

"You've been popping into the fire every hour?" Harish asked, half laughing.

"Just for a second or two to see if the coast was clear yet."

"What did you want to speak with me about?" Harish asked. "Has my father got another mission for me?"

"No," Sirius said. "Nothing like that, but he does want you to know some things about Umbridge. Word has gotten through the grapevine about your rebellious attitude in her classes."

"How did you—?"

"You forget that Lucius is very close to both your father and the Minister."

Harish's mouthed formed a silent 'o' and he nodded.

"What does he want me to know?"

"That while it is nice to know that you are thinking for yourself, it is best not to trifle with her. Bad things happen to those who get on the wrong side of the Ministry, and you're this close—"

"But _they_ got on my bad side first by posting that article before the third task!" Harish protested.

"No," Sirius said. "Rita Skeeter did. But, now that you have made them angry, there's been talk of using that article from last year to crush your reputation so bad no one will listen to you."

"Well, they are too late," Harish said triumphantly. "I—"

"I know," Sirius interrupted again. "You started the Dark Army. You may have chosen a safe location for your meeting, but you didn't keep her from noticing that absence of twenty students from dinner."

"So she _does_ know?" Fred asked suddenly.

"How else do you think I know?" Sirius retorted.

"But I _did_ clear the DA with the Wizarding Examinations Authority," Harish said.

"Oh I'm not saying that starting the DA was a bad idea," Sirius said, back-tracking. "In fact, it is a very _good_ idea. Your father, for one, is very impressed."

Harish smiled, his heart swelling in pride.

"Is that all?" Harish asked.

"Just about," Sirius said. "I mainly had to fire-call you because your father is afraid of our letters being intercepted. I _would_ come and visit you on your next Hogsmeade but your father forbade me from leaving the house after I was spotted."

"I didn't realize he cared so much for his followers," Harish said with a smirk.

"He doesn't," Sirius muttered. "He just knows you would be upset if I was caught."

Harish looked surprised. But he then knew he should have realized that it was all because his father was taking care of him—everyone knew Harish was one of the few things Voldemort was capable of loving.

"Anyway," Sirius said with a hint of bitterness in his voice, "I'd better go. I'll write—"

But suddenly his eyes widened and he disappeared with a pop. Not a second later, a chubby hand with many fat, ringed fingers appeared, clawing at the air where Sirius's hair had been…

Harish stumbled back and the twins jumped up off the couch. Then the three of them ran for it; at the top of the stairs to the boys' dormitories, Harish looked back. Umbridge's hand was still making snatching movements in the fire.

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	108. Part 7: Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirteen: The Silent Manipulator**

Umbridge sat behind her desk in her office, grading papers. A knock sounded on her door and she lay down her quill with a tiny huff.

"You may enter," she said, struggling to keep her sweet, sugary voice.

A group of Ravenclaw first years shuffled through the door. Knowing where this was headed, Umbridge sighed in resignation and asked, "Yes? What is it?"

Ever since she had passed that decree to stop Dumbledore from forming an army, she had gotten hardly any work done. Countless numbers of students had come to her asking to do things as trivial as study groups in the library.

"Well," the bold one said, stepping forward. "The four of us were wanting to know if we would be allowed to—"

"Yes, yes, you're allowed!" Umbridge snapped.

The Ravenclaws all muttered their thank-you's and scurried out the door. The door swung shut and Umbridge took a deep, calming breath before dipping her quill in red ink and putting it to the nearest paper. No sooner had she marked a question wrong had someone knocked on her door once again.

Meanwhile, Harish sat in the library researching for a paper he had to write on 12th century goblin wars. He heard some muttering and looked over to see a group of students with their heads bent closely together—two girls and a boy from what he could tell. The young man's eyes narrowed as he wondered what they were talking about.

Curious, he grabbed his book and wandered over to a bookshelf that was situated right behind their table. He slowly placed the book on the shelf and pretended to be looking for another.

"…I still can't believe that decree Umbridge passed," one student was saying. Judging by the voice, it was the boy. "It disbanded _all_ of the Quidditch teams."

"Well," another muttered, "at least she let Angelina pull our team back together."

Ah, so they were _Gryffindors_. Then Harish stopped. That meant that the Gryffindors were now allowed to play Quidditch again. Umbridge had _still_ not told Harish whether the Slytherin team was allowed to continue or not.

"Yeah," another voice said, causing Harish's ears to perk up again. "It's a good thing too, after what Neville said in class—I wasn't sure she was going to let us."

"Wait, what did Neville say?" the first one asked.

"Oh, I forgot," the third exclaimed. "You were in the Hospital Wing with a bad head cold that day, weren't you?"

There was no reply, so Harish assumed that the person nodded.

"You know how Neville is refusing to speak to Ron now?" the other girl asked. Once again there was a pause. "Well, he stood up the other day refusing to read out of the book. He said it was all a waste of time and that she shouldn't try to force her opinions on us."

"Neville really _did_ that? I'm guessing she didn't take too kindly to it?"

"No," the first muttered. "She started going on about how the Ministry was trying to protect us," there was a snort of disbelief, "and how Dumbledore was headed for trouble."

"And—get this—Neville actually started going on about how Voldemort was really back and it was the Ministry that was headed for trouble!"

"He believes those lies Dumbledore came up with?" the boy asked suddenly.

"Obviously," the second girl said.

Having heard enough, Harish grabbed his book off the shelf and began to head back to his table. When he turned to face the aisle in between the bookshelves, he saw Neville, pulling a book off the shelf.

"Are you listening in as well?" Harish asked.

"Me?" Neville asked in an unusually high voice. "No, of course not."

"Are you sure?" Harish pressed. "Because I'm pretty sure that book doesn't belong in this section."

Instead of looking at the book, Neville glanced around to see the name of the section they were in. Then he grinned sheepishly.

"So you caught me," Neville said. "Why were you listening to them?"

"Do you know them?"

"They're in my year," Neville replied. "Seamus, Parvati, and Lavender. A whole bunch of gossipers."

Harish nodded. They both made way as a first year walked past. When Harish saw that the boy was a Slytherin, Harish put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Yes?" the boy asked.

"You know the group sitting on the other side of this bookshelf?" Harish questioned, receiving a nod. "I don't think they asked permission to form a group."

He pulled out a galleon and pressed it into the eleven-year-old's hand.

"I think _someone_ should know," he added before walking out of the library, chuckling.

He checked his watch and saw that it was seven thirty. He turned a corner and then took a quick passageway that led him right in from of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Then, he paced three times before pulling on a brass handle and entering the Room of Requirement.

To his delight, he saw that the other Slytherins, minus Ginny, were already there. He walked over to join them.

"Harish!" Hermione cried. "Here, I have something to show you!"

She pulled out a basket and set it where they could all see. Fred leaned over her shoulder and stuck a hand into the basket.

"Galleons?" he asked, letting the large gold coins fall out of his hand and back into the basket.

"No," she replied. "Not Galleons. They're not even gold. If you'll look closely, the numbers around the edge aren't serial numbers, but are the date and time of our meeting."

"They tell people when to come meet?" Harish asked.

Hermione nodded. "I figured that it would be best that we switch up the day we meet on so that it'll look less conspicuous. I cast a protean charm on all of them, so when you change the date on _your_ coin, all the others will heat up and change as well." She handed him one.

"That is quite clever," Fred said.

"Yes," Hermione said un-bashfully. "Well, I figured that if Umbridge has us turn out our pockets—there's not anything suspicious about a Galleon."

"Where did you get the idea?" Harish asked.

"I actually got the idea from your father," Hermione said. "Because he can call all of the Death Eaters to him just by having one of them press their Dark Marks. I just thought it would seem less suspicious if we used coins instead of tattooing everyone."

There was a gentle knock on the door and Ginny entered.

A minute later Neville and Dean entered and Angelina and Alicia came a minute after that. Soon everyone was there, but none came in more than two at a time.

"I just saw everyone coming here," Ginny said. "Caught them right before the Defense corridor and told them to come in pairs to look less suspicious."

"Well done," Harish praised. "Now, I've been thinking about the sort of things we ought to do first and—" he noticed a raised hand. "What, Hermione?"

"I think we need to elect a leader," she said.

"Harish's the leader," Dean said, looking at Hermione as if she was mad.

"Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly," Hermione replied, unperturbed. "It makes it formal and gives him authority. So—everyone who thinks Harish ought to be leader?"

Everyone raised their hands.

"Right, thanks," Harish said with annoyance. "And— _what_ Hermione?"

"I think we should tell everyone about the name we came up with."

"Yes—well—oh, all right," he grumbled. The young man walked over to the cork board and showed them the piece of paper. "We're the DA," he said.

The Hufflepuffs all saw Dumbledore's Army while the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws saw Defense Association, and the Slytherins all read Dark Army. No one questioned it or read it aloud. They all simply said, "Sounds good."

"Right," Harish said once he had determined Hermione had nothing more to say. "Shall we get practicing, then? I was thinking, the first thing we should work on is the Disarming Charm. I know it is not much, but everyone needs to start somewhere, right?" A few people nodded. "So I want you all to divide into pairs and practice."

It felt good to be issuing instructions, but even better to see them followed. Everyone stood at once and divided up. Predictably, Neville was left partner-less.

"You can practice with me," Harish said. "Right, on the count of three, then—one, two, three—"

The room was suddenly full of shouts of _"Expelliarmus!_ ": Wands flew in all directions, missed spells hit books on shelves and sent them flying into the air. Harish was too quick for Neville, whose wand went spinning out of his hand, hit the ceiling in a shower of sparks, and landed with a clatter on top of a bookshelf, from which Harish retrieved it with a Summoning Charm. Glancing around he knew he had been right to suggest that they practice the basics first; there was a lot of shoddy spellwork from many people; several were not successful in disarming their opponents at all, but merely caused them to jump backward a few paces or wince as the feeble spell whooshed over them.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Neville exclaimed, and Harish, caught unawares, felt his wand fly out of his hand.

"I DID IT!" Neville said gleefully. "I've never done it before—I DID IT!"

Harish gritted his teeth and told himself that he needed to put up with the idiot if he wanted to keep him from Dumbledore. Swallowing his comments about how a real opponent wouldn't be staring in the opposite direction with their wand held loosely at their side, Harish told Neville, "Good job. Can you take it in turns to practice with Ginny and Luna so I can check on everyone else?"

Harish moved off to the middle of the room. Something very odd was happening to Ernie Macmillan; every time he opened his mouth to disarm Justin, his own wand would fly out of his hand, yet Justin was not making a sound. Knowing that none of the fifth years should be able to cast silently, Harish went investigating to discover that Fred and George had been taking turns pointing their wands at his back.

"Sorry, Harish," George said hastily when Harish caught his eye. "Couldn't resist…"

Harish walked around the room and observed everyone.

"Now, stop!" Harish shouted over the noise. " _Stop! STOP!_ "

 _I need a whistle_ , he thought, and immediately he spotted one lying on top of the nearest row of books. He grabbed it and blew hard. Everyone lowered their wands.

"That wasn't too bad," Harish panted, "but there's definite room for improvement. Let's try again…"

He moved off around the room again, stopping here and there to make suggestions. Slowly, the general performance improved.

"Have you checked the time recently?" Hermione asked as he walked by her where she was waiting on Daphne to retrieve her wand.

Harish glanced down at his watch. It was already half past nine. Not wanting himself or anyone else caught out of bounds, he blew his whistle hard; everyone stopped shouting and the last could of wands clattered to the floor.

"Well, that was pretty good," Harish said, "but we've overrun. We should leave it here. Same time, same place next week?"

"Sooner!" Dean exclaimed eagerly and many people nodded in agreement.

"Well," Harish said. "Since it doesn't look like the Slytherin team will be back together for some time, we could meet here this Wednesday. But keep an eye on your coins. The plans may still change."

He pulled out the Marauder's Map and checked to make sure the coast was clear. Then, he let everyone go in threes and fours, watching their tiny dots return safely to their dormitories.

"C'mon," Harish said to the twins once they were the last ones in there.

The three of them then went together to the Slytherin common room.

* * *

 **TTFN**


	109. Part 7: Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Fourteen: Just a Friendly House Competition**

Harish was finally granted the permission to reform the Slytherin team, so as the first match of the season grew nearer, the DA meetings were put on hold because the days Slytherin weren't practicing, Gryffindor was. Of course Harish forbade the members on his team from hexing the Gryffindors, as most of them were now his allies.

October ended in a flood of rain and howling winds, and November arrived bringing in the cold. The rain was turned to ice, and the winds brought in droves of snow instead of rain. The skies in the Great Hall turned a pale, pearly gray, the mountains around Hogwarts became snowcapped, and the temperature in the castle dropped so far that many students wore their protective dragon skin gloves in the corridors between lessons.

The morning of the match dawned bright and cold. When Harish awoke, he saw that no one was quite awake yet. He shook the twins, and the three of them headed to the Great Hall for breakfast.

The rest of the Quidditch team joined them not much later, and once everyone had eaten, Harish led the team down to the changing rooms. The frosty grass crunched under their feet as they walked down the sloping lawns toward the stadium. There was no wind at all and the sky was a pearly white, which meant that visibility would be good without the drawback of direct sunlight in the eyes.

They changed into their Quidditch robes before they all sat down and Harish talked to the rest of the team about the upcoming match, encouraging them and pointing out the good conditions. As Harish went on into the usual pre-match talk, the babble of voices outside grew steadily louder as the crowd came pouring out of the castle toward the pitch.

"Okay, in the official line-up for the Gryffindor team there is one new adjustment. Their new Keeper is Ron Weasley, who apparently did not gain the twins' Quidditch skills. All you have to do is make him feel nervous and he'll botch any saves."

They could now hear hundreds of footsteps mounting the banked benches of the spectators' stands.

Harish glanced at his watch and said, "It's time. Come on everyone…"

The team rose, shouldered their brooms, and marched in single file out of the changing room and into the dazzling sky. A roar of sound greeted them, a mixture of cheer and whistles.

The Gryffindor showed up at least five minutes later.

"Captains shake hands," Madam Hooch ordered.

Harish and Angelina shook hands, him saying playfully, "I bet you'll lose."

"If we do, we'll make a come-back," Angelina said seriously.

"Mount your brooms…"

Madam Hooch placed her whistle in her mouth and blew.

The balls were released and the fourteen players shot upward. He zoomed higher, dodging a Bludger, and set off on a wide lap of the pitch, gazing around for a glint of gold; on the other side of the stadium, Dean was doing the same.

"And it's Johnson, Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me—"

"JORDAN!" McGonagall yelled.

"Just a bit of fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest—and she's ducked Warrington, she's passed Malfoy, she's—ouch—been hit in the back by a Bludger from Fred Weasley…Malfoy catches the Quaffle, Malfoy heading back up the pitch. He passed to Ginny Weasley. Ginny's approaching the goals—so it's the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper, Weasley, from his own sister—come on Ron!"

But a scream of delight came from the Slytherins. Ron had dived wildly, his arms wide, and the Quaffle had soared between them, straight through Ron's central hoop.

"Slytherin score!" came Lee's voice amid the cheering and booing from the crowds below. "So that's ten-nil to Slytherin—bad luck, Ron…"

Harish turned from the match to search for the Snitch once again. He went into a dive and started circling the pitch again, staring around, fighting his usual battle to ignore the match.

There was no sign of the Snitch anywhere he looked; Dean was circling the stadium as well. They passed midway around the pitch going in opposite directions and nodded to each other.

"—and it's Warrington again," Lee bellowed, "who passes to Ginny Weasley, who passes to Malfoy. It's Malfoy, come on Angelina, you can take him—turns out you can't—but nice Bludger from Bole, and Malfoy drops the Quaffle and Katie Bell—er—drops it too—so that's Warrington with the Quaffle, and he's off up the pitch, come on now Gryffindor, block him!"

Harish zoomed around the end of the stadium behind the Slytherin goal hoops, still searching.

"—and Warrington's dodged Alicia again, and he's heading straight for goal, stop it, Ron!"

Harish smiled, not even having to look as he heard fresh screams and applause from the Slytherins, accompanied by a loud groan from the Gryffindor end. He bobbed and weaved through the other players in pursuit of what turned out to be a watch strap…

Twenty-nil soon changed to forty and Slytherin was still in the lead. Gryffindor still had yet to score, so Harish was looking for the Snitch so that he could end the game before they had any points…

"—and Katie Bell of Gryffindor dodges Malfoy, ducks Weasley, nice swerve, Katie, and she throws to Johnson, Angelina Johnson takes th Quaffle, she's past Warrington, she's heading for the goal, come on now Angelina—GRYFFINDOR SCORE! It's forty-ten to Slytherin and Malfoy has the Quaffle…"

Harish was now searching as hard as he could—they could _not_ let the Gryffindors catch up. He flew to the Slytherin end and muttered from behind Bletchley, "Remember to be where you can move to either goal at a moments' notice!"

He ducked a Bludger from Kirke and resumed his near-frantic scouring of the pitch for the Snitch, keeping one eye on Dean in case he spotted it, but Dean, like him, was continuing to soar around the stadium, searching fruitlessly….

"—Malfoy throws to Warrington, Warrington to Weasley, Weasley back to Malfoy—Johnson intervenes, Johnson takes the Quaffle, Johnson to Bell, this looks good—I mean bad—Bell's hit by a Bludger from Fred Weasley—no George Weasley—well, one of the Slytherin Beaters and it's Malfoy in possession again…"

And Harish had seen it at last: the tiny fluttering Golden Snitch was hovering feet from the ground at the Slytherin end of the pitch.

He dove…

In a matter of seconds, Dean was streaking out of the sky on Harish's left a gold-and-red blur lying flat on his broom…

The Snitch skirted the foot of one of the goal hoops and scooted off toward the other side of the stands; its change of direction suited Dean, who was nearer. Harish pulled his Firebolt around, he and Dean were now neck and neck…

Feet from the ground, Harish lifted his right hand from his broom, stretching toward the Snitch…to his left, Dean's arm extended too, reaching, groping…

It was over in two seconds—Harish's fingers closed around the tiny, struggling ball. Harish and Dean both landed on the lawn and Harish held the Snitch up for the whole stadium to see and the Slytherins screamed their approval.

"Good game," Dean said, holding out his arm.

"And you," Harish replied, shaking Dean's hand.

The rest of the Slytherin team landed around them and began to congratulate him.

In between pats on the back, Harish heard a snort behind him and could see Ron landing, white faced, feet away from them.

"Ah, the traitors!" Ron said angrily. "This should have been our victory!"

The twins stiffened in shaking Harish's hands and looked over.

"Don't mind him," Dean muttered. "He's just sore we lost."

"You're one to talk," Harish said to Ron nonetheless. "As I recall, you betrayed your own friend. Besides, you didn't manage to save a single goal out there, so—perhaps it's all _your_ fault."

"Pride always comes—"

"Before the fall," the twins sneered.

"You could write Mum and Dad about this!" Ron said in mock excitement. "Oh, wait, I forgot! Mum doesn't _love_ you."

Harish had to grab the twins as they both tried to leap forward.

"Maybe you should get Harish's Death Eater of a father to take you in. I hear Mum's ready to disown you."

"Get off me," George growled, trying to pry his hand out of Harish's while Fred was being held down by the entire Slytherin team.

"Oh, but I forgot!" Ron shouted over the noise. "Harish's father such a horrible parent that he would never be able to take in two more!"

Harish was never aware of releasing George, all he knew was that a second later both of them were sprinting at Ron. He had completely forgotten the fact that all the teachers were watching: All he wanted to do was to cause as much pain for Ron as possible for insulting his father. No one insulted Voldemort and got away with it. With no time to draw his wand, he merely drew back the fist clutching the Snitch and sank it as hard as he could into Ron's stomach—

"Harish! HARISH! GEORGE! _NO!_ "

He could hear girls' voices screaming, Ron yelling, George swearing, a whistle blowing, and the bellowing of the crowd around him, but he did not care, not until someone in the vicinity yelled " _IMPEDIMENTA!_ " and only when he was knocked over backward by the force of the spell did he abandon the attempt to punch every inch of Ron he could reach…

"What do you think you're doing?" Madam Hooch screamed, as Harish leapt to his feet again; it was she who had hit him with the Impediment Jinx. She was holding her whistle in one hand, and a wand in the other, her broom lay abandoned several feet away. Ron was curled up on the ground, whimpering and moaning, his nose bloody; George was sporting a swollen lip; Fred was still being forcibly restrained by the three Chasers. "I've never seen behavior like it—back up to the castle, both of you, and straight to your Head of House's office! Go! _Now!_ "

Harish and George marched off the pitch, both panting, neither saying a word to each other. The howling and jeering of the crowd grew fainter and fainter until they reached the Entrance Hall, where they could hear nothing except the sound of their own footsteps. Harish became aware that something was still struggling in his right hand, the knuckles of which he had used to bruise Ron's jaw; looking down he saw the Snitch's silver wings protruding from between his fingers, struggling for release.

They had barely reached the dungeons when Professor Snape came gliding along the corridor behind them. He wore a Slytherin scarf, but tore it from his neck as he strode toward them, looking disappointed.

"In!" he said furiously, pointing to the door. Harish and George entered. He strode around behind his desk and faced them silently. His face betrayed no emotion, but the two could tell he was angry.

"Well?" he drawled. "I have never seen such a disgraceful exhibition. A childish brawl in the middle of the Quidditch pitch! Explain yourselves!"

"He provoked us," Harish said stiffly.

"Provoked you?" Snape said, deadly quiet. "He'd just lost, hadn't he, of course he would provoke you! But what on earth can he have said that justified—"

"He insulted my father," Harish snarled.

"I know you respect your father, but I do not think he would approve of your Muggle methods of dueling. You could have let Madam Hooch sort it out! Have you any idea what you've—?"

" _Hem, hem_."

George and Harish both spun around. Dolores Umbridge was standing in the doorway wrapped in a green tweed cloak that greatly enhanced her resemblance to a giant toad, and smiling in the horribly sickly, ominous way that Harish had come to associate with imminent misery.

"May I help, Professor Snape?" Umbridge asked in her most poisonously sweet voice.

"Help?" he repeated in a constricted voice. "What do you mean 'help'?"

Umbridge moved into the office, still smiling her sickly smile.

"Why, I thought you might be grateful for a little extra authority."

"You thought wrong," he said, turning his back on Umbridge. "Now, you two had better listen closely. I do not care what provocation Weasley offered you, I do not care if he insulted every family member you possess your behavior was disgusting and I am giving each of you a week's worth of detention! And if either of you ever—"

" _Hem, hem_."

Snape closed his eyes as though praying for patience as he turned to face toward Umbridge again.

" _Yes?_ "

"I think they deserve rather more than detentions," Umbridge said, smiling even more broadly.

"It does not matter what you think, Dolores," Snape said. "But what I think, as they are in my House."

"Well, _actually_ , Severus," Umbridge simpered. "I think you'll find what I think _does_ count. Now where is it? Cornelius just sent it…I mean," she gave a little false laugh as she rummaged in her handbag, "the _Minister_ just sent it…Ah yes…"

She had pulled out a piece of parchment that she now unfurled, clearing her throat fussily before starting to read what it said.

" _Hem, hem_ …. 'Educational Decree Number Twenty-five…The High Inquisitor will henceforth have supreme authority over all punishments, sanctions, and removals of privileges as may have been ordered by other staff members. Signed, Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, Order of Merlin First Class, etc., etc…"

She rolled up the parchment and put it back into her handbag, still smiling.

"So…I really think I will have to ban these two from playing Quidditch ever again," she said, looking from Harish to George and back again.

Harish felt the snitch fluttering madly in his hand.

"Ban us?" he asked, his voice sounding strangely distant. "From playing…ever again?"

"Yes, Mr. Blake, I think a lifelong ban ought to do the trick. You _and_ Mr. Weasley here. And I think, to be safe, this young man's twin ought to be stopped too—if his team-mates had not restrained him, I feel he would have attacked young Ron as well. I will want their brooms confiscated, of course; I shall keep them safely in my office, to make sure there is no infringement of my ban."

"But you can't!" Harish protested. "I'm the _Captain!_ "

"I'm sure Mr. Malfoy can step in as Captain. I saw no signs of violence from _him_. Well…good afternoon to you."

And with a look of utmost satisfaction Umbridge left the room, leaving a horrified silence in her wake.

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	110. Part 7: Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP**

* * *

 **Chapter Fifteen: Hagrid's Tale**

Harish felt completely dead without Quidditch. The first match he had been able to play in for a year, and he was banned for life. How did these things happen? Voldemort said that Harish lacked control over his emotions. Harish disagreed. He thought that the hag that was Umbridge just had it out for him; determined to make his life miserable.

But, Voldemort would say that he dug his own grave protesting the way she ran class to her face. Situations like that had to be dealt with—how did he put it?— _delicately_. Meaning, for Voldemort, that Harish had to go and do something behind her back that no one knew of. Like starting a secret army, for example.

But, as he moped about not being able to play Quidditch any longer, Ron moped about what a horrible player he was.

"This is the worst I've ever felt in my life," Ron muttered, his arms crossed.

Nearby, Dean rolled his eyes and Neville was torn between feeling sorry for his old friend and not wanting to care.

"Well," Seamus muttered quietly to Ron. "I can think of one thing that might cheer you up."

"Yeah?" Ron asked skeptically.

"Hagrid's back."

Ron hopped up from his seat and peered out the window. There was, indeed, a light lit inside the cabin and smoke furled from the chimney.

The next morning the two boys rushed down the sloping lawns to Hagrid's cabin. Ron knocked on the door and they could hear a dog barking frantically inside.

"Hagrid it's us!" Ron called through the keyhole.

"Shoulda known!" said a gruff voice.

The bolt was drawn back, the door creaked open, and Hagrid's head appeared in the gap.

"We would've come sooner," Ron said taking his eyes off Fang, Hagrid's boarhound. "but—"

He caught off at the sight of Hagrid's face.

"What happened to you?" he asked loudly.

As Hagrid invited them in and they moved out of the shadow of the cabin, they could see Hagrid's face a bit more clearly. Hagrid's hair was matted with congealed blood, and his left eye had been reduced to a puffy slit amid a mass of purple-and-black bruises There were many cuts on his face and hands, some of them still bleeding, and he was moving gingerly, which made Ron suspect broken ribs.

"It's nuthin'." Hagrid said, pouring them two cups of tea. "Where's Neville?"

"Couldn't come," Seamus muttered as Ron protested, "Come off it, you're in a right state!"

"I'm tellin' yeh, I'm fine," Hagrid grunted, straightening up and turning to beam at them, but wincing. "Blimey, it's good ter see yeh again—had good summers, did yeh?"

"Hagrid, you've been attacked!"

"Fer the las' time, it's nuthin'!"

"Would you say it was nothing if one of us turned up with a pound of mince instead of a face?" Ron demanded.

"You ought to go to Madam Pomfrey," Seamus said. "She could fix you up."

"I'm dealin' with it, all right?"

Hagrid walked across to the enormous wooden table that stood in the middle of his cabin that had been lying on it. Underneath was a raw, bloody, green-tinged steak slightly larger than the average tire.

"You're not going to eat that, are you, Hagrid?" Ron asked, leaning in for a closer look. "It looks poisonous."

"It's supposed ter look like that, it's dragon meat," Hagrid grumbled. "An' I didn't get it ter eat."

He picked up the steak and slapped it over the left side of his face. Greenish blood trickled down into his bead as he gave a soft moan of satisfaction.

"Tha's better. It helps with the stingin', yeh know."

"So are you going to tell us what's happened to you?" Seamus asked eagerly.

"Can', Seamus. Top secret. More'n me job's worth ter tell yeh that."

"Did the giants beat you up, Hagrid?" Ron pried.

Hagrid's fingers slipped on the dragon steak, and it slid squelchily onto his chest.

"Giants?" Hagrid queried, catching the steak before it reached his belt and slapping it back over his face. "Who said anythin' abou' giants? Who yeh bin talkin' to? Who's told yeh what I've—who's said I've been—eh?"

"We guessed," Seamus said.

"Oh, yeh did, did yeh?" Hagrid asked, fixing a stern eye on him that was not hidden by the steak.

"It was kind of…obvious," Ron said. Seamus nodded.

Hagrid glared at them and then snorted.

"Never known kids like yeh fer knowin' more'n yeh oughta," he muttered. "An' I'm not complementin' yeh, neither. Nosy, some'd call it. Interferin'."

But his beard twitched.

"So you have been to look for the giants?" Ron asked, grinning.

"Yeah, all righ'," he grunted. "I have."

"And you found them?" Seamus asked curiously.

"Well, they're not that difficult ter find, ter be honest," Hagrid replied. "Pretty big, see."

"Where are they?" Ron asked.

"Mountains," Hagrid explained simply.

"So why don't Muggles—"

"They do," Hagrid informed them darkly. "On'y their deaths are always put down ter mountaineerin' accidents, aren' they?"

He adjusted the steak a little so that it covered most of the bruising.

"Come on, Hagrid, tell us what you've been up to!" Ron exclaimed. "Tell us about being attacked by the giants and we won't pester you anymore."

"Oh, all righ'," Hagrid said in a resigned voice. "S'not like yeh won't figger it out eventually."

He took a fortifying gulp of tea and then said, "Well, we set off righ' after term ended—"

"Madame Maxime went with you, then?" Ron interjected.

"Yeah, tha's right," Hagrid replied, and a softened expression appeared on the few inches of his face that were not obscured by beard or green steak. "Yeah, it was jus' the pair of us. An' I'll tell yeh this, she's not afraid of roughin' it, Olympe. Yeh know, she's a fine, well-dressed woman, an' knowin' where we was goin' I wondered 'ow she'd feel abou' clamberin' over boulders an' sleepin' in caves an' tha' bu' she never complained once."

"You knew where you were going?" Ron questioned. "You knew where the giants were?"

"Well, Dumbledore knew an' he told us," Hagrid said.

"Are they hidden?" Seamus asked. "Is it a secret, where they are?"

"Not really," Hagrid said, shaking his shaggy head. "It's jus' that mos' wizards aren' bothered where they are, s'long as it's a good way away. But where they are's very difficult ter get ter, fer humans anyway, so we needed instructions. Took us abou' a month ter get there—"

"A _month?_ " Ron asked, as though he had never heard of a journey lasting such a ridiculously long time. "But—why couldn't you just grab a Portkey or something?"

There was an odd expression in Hagrid's unobscured eye as he squinted at Ron; it was almost pitying.

"We're bein' watched, Ron," he said gruffly.

"What d'you mean?"

"Yeh don't understand," Hagrid said. "The Ministry's keepin' an eye on Dumbledore an' anyone they reckon's in league with him, an'—"

"We know about that," Seamus said quickly, keen to hear the rest of the story. "We know about th Ministry watching Dumbledore—"

"So you couldn't use magic to get there?" Ron asked, looking thunderstruck. "You had to act like Muggles _all the way?_ "

"Well, not exactly all the way. We jus' had ter be careful, 'cause Olympe an' me, we stick out a bit—"

Ron made a stifled noise somewhere between a snort and a sniff and hastily took a gulp of tea.

"—so we're not hard ter follow. We was pretendendin' we was goin' on holiday together, so we got inter France an' we made like we was headin' fer where Olympe's school is, 'cause we knew we was bein' tailed by someone from the Ministry. We had to go slow, 'cause I'm not really s'posed ter use magic n' we knew the Ministry'd be lookin' fer a reason ter run us is. But we managed ter give the berk tailin' us the slip round abou' Dee-John.

"We chanced a bit o' magic after that, and it wasn' a bad journey. Ran inter a couple o' mad trolls on the Polish border, an' I had sligh' disagreement with a vampire in a pub in Minsk, but apart from tha', couldn'ta bin smoother."

"An' then we reached the place, an' we started trekkin' up the mountains, lookin' fer signs of 'em…

"We had to lay off the magic once we got near 'em. Partly 'cause Dumbledore had warned us You-Know-Who was bound ter be after the giants an' all. Said it was odds on he'd sent a messenger off ter tell them already. Told us ter be very careful of drawin' attention ter ourselves as we got nearer in case there was Death Eaters around."

Hagrid paused for a long draught of tea.

"Go on!" Ron urged.

"Found 'em," Hagrid said baldy. "Went over a ridge one nigh' an' there they was, spread ou' underneath us. Little fires burnin' below an' huge shadows…It was like watchin' bits o' mountain movin'."

"How big are they?" Ron asked in a hushed voice.

"Bout twenty feet," Hagrid replied casually. "Some o' the bigger ones mighta been twenty-five."

"And how many were there?" Seamus asked.

"I reckon abou' seventy or eighty."

"Is that all?"

"Yep," Hagrid said sadly. "eighty left, an' there was loads once, musta bin a hundred diff'rent tribes from all over the world. But they're bin dyin' out fer ages. Wizards killed a few, o' course, but mostly they killed each other, an' now they're dyin' faster than ever. They're not made ter live bunched together like tha'. Dumbledore says it's our fault, it was the wizards who forced 'em ter go inter the mountains an' they had no choice but ter stick together fer their own protection."

"So, you saw them and then what?"

"Well we waited till morning, didn't want ter go fer our own safety," Hagrid continued. "Bout three in the mornin' they jus' fell asleep jus' where they was sittin'. We didn't dare sleep. Fer one thing, we wanted ter make sure none of 'em woke up an' came up where we were, an' fer another, the snorin' was unbelievable. Caused an avalanche near mornin'.

"Anyway, once it was light we wen' down ter see 'em."

"Just like that?" Ron asked, looking awestruck. "You just walked right into a giant camp?"

"Well, Dumbledore'd told us how ter do it," Hagrid said. "Give the Gurg gifts, shoe some respect, yeh know."

"Give the _what_ gifts?" Seamus squawked.

"Oh, the Gurg—means the chief."

"How could you tell which one was the Gurg?" Ron asked.

Hagrid grunted in amusement.

"No problem," he replied. "He was the biggest, the ugliest, an' the laziest. Sittin' there waitin' ter be brought food by the others. Dead goats an' such like. Name o' Karkus. I'd put him at twenty-two, twenty-three feet, an' the weight of a couple o' bull elephants. Skin like rhino hide an' all."

"And you just walked up to him?"

"Well… _down_ ter him, where he was lyin' in the valley. They was in this dip between four pretty high mountains, see, beside a mountain lake, an' Karkus was lyin' by the lake roarin' at th others ter feed him an' his wife. Olympe an' I went down the mountainside—"

"But didn't they try and kill you when they saw you?" Ron asked incredulously.

"It was def'nitely on some of their minds," Hagrid shrugged, "but we did what Dumbledore told us ter do, which was ter hold our gift up high an' keep our eyes on th Gurg an' ignore the others. So tha's what we did. An' the rest of 'em went quiet an' watched us pass an' we got right up ter Karkus's feet an' we bowed an' put our present down in front o' him."

"What do you give a giant?" Ron asked eagerly. "Food?"

"Nah, he can get food all righ' fer himself. We took him magic. Giants like magic, jus' don't like us usin it against 'em. Anyway, that firs' day we gave him a branch of Gubraithian fire."

"A branch of—?"

"Everlasting fire. Dumbledore bewitched it, which isn't something' any wizard could do, an' so I lies it down in the snow by Karkus's feet and says, 'A gift to the Gurg of the giants from Albus Dumbledore, who sends his respectful greetings.'"

"And what did Karkus say?" Seamus questioned.

"Nothin'. Didn't speak English."

"You're kidding!"

"Didn' matter," Hagrid said imperturbably. "Dumbledore had warned us tha' migh' happen. Karkus knew enough ter yell fer a couple o' giants who knew our lingo an' they translated fer us."

"And did he like the present?" Ron queried.

"Oh yeah, it went down a storm once they understood what it was," Hagrid replied, turning his dragon steak over to press the cooler side to his swollen eye. "Very pleased. So then I said, 'Albus Dumbledore asks the Gurg to speak with his messenger when he returns tomorrow with another gift."

"Why couldn't you speak to them that day?" Seamus inquired.

"Dumbledore wanted us ter take it very slow," Hagrid explained. "Let 'em see we kept our promises. _We'll come back tomorrow with another present,_ an' then we do come back with another present—gives a good impression, see? An' gives them time ter test out the firs' present an' find out it's a good one, an' get 'em eager fer more. In any case, giants like Karkus—overload 'em with information an' they'll kill yeh jus' the simplify things. So we bowed outta the way an' went back an' this time we found Karkus sittin' up waitin' fer us lookin' all eager."

"And you talked to him?"

"Oh yeah. Firs' we presented him with a nice battle helmet—goblin made an' indestructible, yeh know—an' then we sat down an' talked."

"What did he say?"

"Not much," Hagrid said. "Listened mostly. But there were good signs. He'd heard o' Dumbledore, heard he's argued against the killin' of the last gints in Britain. Karkus seemed ter be quite int'rested in what we was sayin'. An' a few o' the others, 'specially the ones who had some English, they gathered round an' listened too. We were hopeful when we left day. Promised ter come back next day with another present.

"But that night it all wen' wrong."

"What d'you mean?" Ron asked quickly.

"Well, like I say, they're not meant ter live together, giants," Hagrid said sadly. "Not in big groups like that. They can' help themselves, they half kill each other every few weeks. The men fight each other an' the women fight each other, the remnants of the old tribes fight each other, an' that's even without squabbles over food an' the best fires an' sleepin' spots. Yeh'd think, seein' as how their whole race is abou' finished, they'd lay off each other, but…"

Hagrid sighed deeply.

"That night a fight broke out, we saw it from the mouth of our cave, lookin' down on the valley. Went on fer hours, yeh wouldn' believe the noise. An' when the sun came up the snow was scarlet an' his head was lyin' at the bottom o' the lake."

"Whose head?" Seamus asked.

"Karkus's," Hagrid replied heavily. "There was a new Gurg, Golgomath." He sighed deeply. "Well, we hadn't bargained on a new Gurg two days after we'd made friendly contact with the fir' one an' we had a funny feelin' Golgomath wouldn' be so keen ter listen to us, but we had ter try."

"You went to speak to him?" Ron asked incredulously. "After you'd watched him rip off another giant's head?"

"'Course we did," Hagrid said. "We hadn't gone all that way ter give up after two days! We wen' down with the next present we'd meant ter give ter Karkus.

"I knew it was no go before I'd opened me mouth. He was sitting there wearin' Karkus's helmet, leerin' at us as we got nearer. He's massive, one o' the biggest ones there. Black hair an' matching teeth an' necklace o' bones. Human lookin' bones some of 'em. Well, I gave it a go—held out a great roll of dragon skin an' said 'A gift fer the Gurg of the giants—' Nex' thing I knew, I was hangin' upside down in the air by me feet, two of his mates had grabbed me."

"How did you get out of _that?_ "

"Wouldn'ta done if Olympe hadn' bin there," Hagrid replied. "She pulled out her wand an' did some o' the fastes' spellwork I've ever seen. Ruddy marvelous. Hit the two holdin' me right in the eyes with Conjunctivitus Curses an' they dropped me straightaway—bu' we were in trouble them, 'cause we'd used magic agains 'em, an' that's what giants hate abou' wizards. We had ter leg it an' we knew there was no way we was going ter be able ter march inter camp again."

"Blimey, Hagrid," Ron said quietly.

"So how come it's taken you so long to get home if you were only there for three days?" Seamus.

"We didn' leave after three days!" Hagrid exclaimed, looking outraged. "Dumbledore was relyin' on us!"

"But you've just said there was no way you could go back!"

"Not by daylight, we couldn', no. We just had ter rethink a bit. Spent a couple o' days lyin' low up in the cave an' watchin'. An' wha' we saw wasn' good."

"Did he rip off more heads?"

"No," Hagrid replied. "I wish he had."

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean we soon found out he didn' object ter all wizards—just us."

"Death Eaters?" Ron asked.

"Yep," Hagrid explained darkly. "Couple of 'em were visitin' him ev'ry day, bringin' gifts ter the Gurg, an' he wasn' dangling them upside down."

"How d'you know they were Death Eaters?" Seamus wondered.

"Because I recognized on of 'em," Hagrid growled. "Macnair, remember him? Bloke they sent ter kill Buckbeak? Maniac, he is. Likes killin' as much as Golgomath, no wonder they were gettin' on so well."

"So Macnair's persuaded the giants to join You-Know-Who?"

"Hold yer hippogriffs. I haven' finished me story yet!" Hagrid said indignantly, who, considering he had not wanted to tell them in the first place, now seemed to be rather enjoying himself. "Me an' Olympe talked it over an' we agreed, jus' 'cause the Gurg looked like favorin' You-Know-Who didn' mean all of 'em would. We had ter try an' persuade some o' the others, the ones who hadn' wanted Golgomath as Gurg."

"How could you tell which ones they were?" Ron questioned.

"Well, they were the ones bein; beaten to a pulp, weren' they? The ones with any sense were keepin' outta Golgomath's way, hidin' out in caves round the gully jus' like we were. So we went pokin' round by night an' saw if we couldn' persuade a few o' 'em."

"Did you convince any to join us?" Seamus asked.

"At one point we had six or seven that looked eager teh help."

"At one point?" Ron asked.

"Golgomath's lot raided the caves. The ones tha' survived didn' wan' no more ter do with us after that."

"So…so there aren't any giants coming?" Ron asked disappointedly.

"Nope," Hagrid sighed as he turned his steak over again and applied the cooler side to his face, "but we did wha' we meant ter do, we gave 'em Dumbledore's message an' some o' 'em heard it an' I 'spect sine o' them'll remember it. Just maybe, them that don' want ter stay round Golgomath'll move outta the mountains, an' there's gotta be a chance they'll remember Dumbledore's friendly to 'em…Could be they'll come…"

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	111. Part 7: Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Sixteen: As the School Declines**

As it progressed into the week, the snow grew deeper and deeper. Harish and the twins were on of the first that went out on Sunday morning to enjoy the snow, making snowballs and throwing them at the nearest tower. It turned out that it was Gryffindor tower, for Ron opened the shutters to his and shouted, "Oy! I am a prefect and if one more snowball hits this window—"

The twins scooped the largest pile of snow they could and mashed it into a ball before Harish charmed it, sending it soaring to the window.

Ron cried, "OUCH!"

Then, the three of them reluctantly went inside to finish the homework they due next day. As they went in, Seamus and Ron headed out, meaning to talk to Hagrid. They wanted to warn him about Umbridge—the fact that she was inspecting all of their teachers.

They had already seen her inspect Trelawney and Professor McGonagall. McGonagall had gotten through fine, but Trelawney had been put on probation as Umbridge found her prophecies inadequate.

Hagrid's appearance at the staff table the next day was greeted quite individually. Some of the students cheered and welcomed the half-giant back, but others exchanged gloomy looks. Draco was one of them. He had never been a fan of Hagrid. Of course _he_ had never ridden on a rampaging hippogriff like Harish had, so he had no room to make opinions.

It was with some apprehension that the fifth years made their way down to Care of Magical Creatures after breakfast, bundled up in scarves and mittens. Draco, Daphne, and Hermione were worried about what horrible creature Hagrid would introduce on his first day back, and Ron and Seamus were worried that the giant man would be put on probation.

However, the High Inquisitor was nowhere to be seen as they struggled through the snow toward Hagrid, who stood waiting for them on the edge of the forest. He did not present a reassuring sight; the bruises that had been purple when Ron and Seamus last spoke to him were now tinged with green and yellow and some of his cuts still seemed to be bleeding.

"We're workin' in here today!" Hagrid called happily to the approaching students, jerking his head toward the dark trees behind him. "Bit more sheltered! Anyway, they prefer the dark…"

"What prefers the dark?" Draco asked sharply, a trace of panic in his voice. "What did he say prefers the dark—did you hear?"

"Oh, buck up Draco," Daphne muttered. "Lots of things do, and not all are deadly."

"Ready?" Hagrid asked happily, looking around at the class. "Right, well, I've bin savin' a trip inter the forest fer yer fifth year. Though' we'd go an' see these creatures in their natural habitat. Now, what we're studyin' today is pretty rare, I reckon I'm probably the on'y person in Britain who's managed ter train 'em—"

"And you're sure they're trained, are you?" Draco queried, the panic in his voice even more pronounced. "Only it wouldn't be the first time you'd brought wild stuff to class, would it?"

The Slytherins and a few Gryffindors murmured their agreement and Ron looked livid.

"'Course they're trained," Hagrid said with a scowl.

"So what's happened to your face, then?" Draco demanded.

"Mind yer own business!" Hagrid retorted angrily. "Now if yeh've finished askin' stupid questions, follow me!"

He turned and strode straight into the forest. No one seemed inclined to follow. Seamus and Ron glanced at each other, sighed, and set off after Hagrid, leading the rest of the class.

They walked for about ten minutes until they reached a place where the trees stood so closely together that it was as dark as twilight and there was no snow on the ground at all. Hagrid deposited his half a cow with a grunt on the ground, stepped back, and turned to face his class again, most of whom were creeping toward him from tree to tree, peering around nervously ad though expecting to be attacked at any minute.

"Gather roun', gather roun'," Hagrid said encouragingly. "Now, they'll be attracted by the smell o' the meat but I'm goin' ter give 'em a call anyway, 'cause they'll like ter know it's me…"

He turned, shook his shaggy head to get the hair out of his face, and gave an odd, shrieking cry that echoed through the dark trees like the call of some monstrous bird. No one laughed. Several looked too scared to make a sound.

Hagrid gave the shrieking cry again. A minute passed in which the class continued to peer nervously over their shoulders and around trees for a first glimpse of whatever was coming. And then, as Hagrid shook his hair back for a third time and expanded his enormous chest, a few of them spotted something.

Neville nudged Dean and pointed into the black space between two gnarled yew trees.

A pair of blank, white, shining eyes were growing larger through the gloom and a moment later the dragonish face, neck, and then skeletal body of a great, black, winged horse emerged from the darkness, It looked around at the class for a few seconds, swishing its long black tail, then bowed its head and began to tear flesh from the dead cow with its pointed fangs.

Dean glanced at Neville in confusion before staring off into the trees again. After a few seconds, Ron whispered, "Why doesn't Hagrid call again?"

Most of the class were wearing similar expressions of confusion and were still gazing everywhere but at the horse standing feet from them. There was only one other person who seemed to be able to see them: a stringy Slytherin boy standing just behind Goyle was watching the horse eating with an expression of great distaste of his face. Neville's eyes returned to the odd horse-like creature and followed the progression of its swishing tail.

"Oh, an' here comes another one!" Hagrid proclaimed proudly, as a second black horse appeared out of the dark trees, folded its leathery wings closer to its body, and dipped its head to gorge on the meat. "Now…put yer hands up, who can see 'em?"

Neville nervously raised his hand.

"Yeah…yeah, I knew you'd be able ter, Neville," he said seriously. "An'—"

"Excuse me," Draco interrupted, "but what exactly are we supposed to be seeing?"

For answer, Hagrid pointed at the cow carcass on the ground. The whole class stared at it for a few seconds, then several people gasped and Parvati squealed. Neville understood why: Bits of flesh stripping themselves away from the bones and vanishing into thin air had to look very odd indeed.

"What's doing it?" Parvati demanded in a terrified voice, retreating behind the nearest tree. "What's eating it?"

"Thestrals," Hagrid replied proudly and Hermione gave a soft "oh!" of comprehension in between Dean and Draco. "Hogwarts has got a whole herd of 'em in here. Now who knows—?"

"But they're really, really unlucky!" Parvati interrupted, looking alarmed. "They're supposed to bring all sorts of horrible misfortune on people who see them. Professor Trelawney told me once—"

"No, no, no," Hagrid chuckled, "tha's jus' superstition, that is, they aren' unlucky, they're dead clever an' useful! 'Course this lot don' get a lot o' work, it's mainly jus' pullin' the school carriages unless Dumbledore's takin' a long journey an' don' want ter Apparate—an' here's another couple, look—"

Two more horse came quietly out of the trees, one of them passing very close to Parvati, who shivered and pressed herself closer to the tree, saying, "I think I felt something, I think it's near me!"

"Don' worry, it won' hurt yeh," Hagrid told her patiently. "Righ', now, who can tell me why some o' you can see them an; some can't?"

Hermione raised her hand.

"Go on then," Hagrid beamed.

"The only people who can see thestrals," she said, "are people who have seen death."

"Tha's exactly right," Hagrid said solemnly, "ten points the Gryffindor. Now, thestrals—"

" _Hem, hem_."

Professor Umbridge had arrived. She was standing a few feet away from Ron, wearing her green hat and cloak again, her clipboard at the ready. Hagrid, who had never head Umbridge's fake cough before, was gazing in some concern at the closest thestrals, evidently under the impression that it had made the sound.

" _Hem, hem_."

"Oh, hello!" Hagrid said, smiling, having located the source of the noise.

"You received the note I sent to your cabin this morning?" Umbridge asked in a loud, slow voice as if he was too stupid to understand her. "Telling you that I would be inspecting your lesson?"

"Oh yeah," Hagrid responded brightly. "Glad yeh found the place all righ'! Well, as you can see—or I dunno—can you? We're doin' thestrals today—"

"I'm sorry?" Umbridge said loudly, cupping her hand around her ear and frowning. "What did you say?"

Hagrid looked a little confused.

"Er— _thestrals_!" he said loudly. "Big—er—winged horses, yeh know!"

He flapped his gigantic arms hopefully. Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows at him and muttered as she made a note on her clipboard, " _has…to…resort…to…crude…sign…language…_ "

"Well…anyway…" Hagrid said, turning back to the class and looking slightly flustered. "Erm…what was I sayin'?"

" _Appears…to…have…poor…short…term…memory…_ " Umbridge muttered, loudly enough for everyone to hear her. Draco looked as though Christmas had come early, Ron, on the other hand, had turned scarlet with suppressed rage.

"Oh yeah," Hagrid said, throwing an uneasy glance at Umbridge's clipboard, but plowing on valiantly. "Yeah, I was gonna tell yeh how come we got a herd. Yeah, so we started off with a male an' five females. This one," he patted the first horse to have appeared, "name o' Tenebrus, he's my special favorite, firs' one born here in the forest—"

"Are you aware," Umbridge interrupted loudly, "that the Ministry of Magic has classified thestrals as 'dangerous'?"

Neville began to feel a bit sorry for the half-giant, even if he couldn't help but agree with the Slytherins on his methods of teaching, but Hagrid merely chuckled.

"Thestrals aren' dangerous! All righ', they might take a bite outta you if yeh really annoy 'em—"

" _Shows…signs…of…pleasure…at…idea…of….violence…_ " Umbridge muttered, scribbling on her clipboard again.

"No—come on!" Hagrid said, now looking anxious. "I mead, a dog'll bite yeh if yeh bait it, won' it—but thestrals have jus' got a bad reputation because o' the death thing—people used ter think they were bad omens, didn' they? Jus' didn' understand, did they?"

Umbridge did not answer; she finished writing her last note, then looked up at Hagrid and said, again very loudly and slowly, "Please continue teaching as usual. I am going to walk"—she mimed walking—Draco had silent fits of laughter—"among the students"—she pointed around at individual members of the class—"and ask them questions." She pointed at her mouth to indicate talking.

Hagrid stared at her, clearly at a complete loss to understand why she was acting as though he didn't not understand normal English.

"Um…anyway," Hagrid said, clearly struggling to regain the flow of his lesson, "so—thestrals. Yeah. Well, there's loads o' good stuff abou' them…"

 _LINE-BREAK_

December arrived, bringing with it more snow and a positive avalanche of homework for the fifth and seventh years. Draco and Hermione's prefect duties also became more and more arduous as Christmas approached. They were called upon to supervise the decoration of the castle ("You try putting up tinsel when Peeves has gotten the other end and is trying to strangle you with it!"), to watch over the first and second years spending their break times inside because of the bitter cold, and to patrol the corridors in shifts with Filch, who suspected that the holiday spirit might show itself in an outbreak of wizard duels. They were so busy that Hermione spent much time fretting about her homework; as she had little time to do it all.

Harish himself was very eager for the holidays to arrive. Normally he enjoyed getting out of the castle and returning home, but between his Quidditch ban and the worst Defense class ever, he was about ready to run away before the holidays even arrived. The only thing he really looked forward to were the DA meeting, and they would have to stop over the holidays, as he was returning home along with most of the club's members. Hermione was going skiing with her parents, something that greatly amused Fred, who had never before heard of Muggles strapping narrow strips of wood to their feet to slide down mountains. The twins, meanwhile were going home to the Burrow.

Harish arrived early in the Room of Requirement for the last DA meeting before the holidays. He settled in a corner on his armchair and began to read one of the books on jinxes. The door creaked open after a few minutes of silence, and Luna Lovegood entered, looking as dreamy as always.

"Hello," she said vaguely. She glanced around the room and then pointed to something directly above Harish's head, saying, "Mistletoe."

Harish looked up to see a large clump of white berries. He jumped out from under it.

"Good thinking," Luna said very seriously. "It's often infested with nargles."

Harish was saved from asking what nargles were by the arrival of Angelina, Dean, and Neville. After just a few more seconds, Draco, Hermione, Daphne, and the twins arrived. Draco looked very cold and breathless.

"We've replaced you," he said dully, pulling off his cloak and setting it on the table.

"Really?" Harish asked.

"By who?" the twins queried.

"You two were replaced by two lugs in my year, Crabbe and Goyle," Draco said, nodding to the twins. "They aren't very bright, and they look as if they can't tell one end of a bat from the other, but they're good enough and the best I could find at such short notice."

"What about Seeker?" Harish asked.

"Ginny took spot of Seeker," Draco replied, a smile growing on his face. It dropped as he added, "And Pucey took _her_ spot."

The arrival of the Hufflepuffs brought the depressing discussion to an end and within five minutes, the room was full as everyone had ma made it there.

"Okay," he said, calling them all to order. "I thought this evening we should just go over the things we've done so far, because it's the last meeting before the holidays and there's no point in starting anything new right before a three-week break. We can practice in pairs, starting with the Impediment Jinx and then we'll working on Stunning again."

They all divided up obediently; Harish prowled the class as usual as Neville went to practice with Ginny and Luna. The room was soon full of intermittent cries of "Impedimenta!" People froze for a minute or so, during which their partners would stare aimlessly around the room watching other pairs at work, then would unfreeze and take their turn to jinx.

After ten minutes on the Impediment jinx, they laid out cushions all over the floor and started practicing Stunning again. Space was really too confined to allow them all to work this spell at once; half the group observed the others for a while, then swapped over.

At the end of an hour, Harish called a halt.

"You are all getting better," he said. "When we return from the holidays, we can start doing some of the more complicated spells—maybe even Patronuses."

There was a murmur of excitement. The room began to clear in the usual twos and threes; most people wished Harish a Happy Christmas as they went. Feeling cheerful for once, he collected the cushions with the twins and stacked them away. Then, the three of them left for the common room together, laughing and talking about the latest meeting.

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	112. Part 7: Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Seventeen: Life Without the Weasleys**

Albus Dumbledore had been dozing at his desk, having fallen asleep in the middle of writing a letter to the Minister. Moonlight spilled in through the balcony at the back of the circular office. Otherwise, the room was dark as the candles had burned out earlier that hour.

Suddenly, the old man was jerked awake by a voice, calling, "Albus! Albus!"

Dumbledore lifted his head off of his desk and looked around. One of the portraits was calling him.

"What is it?" the professor asked, somehow sensing that this was not good.

He lit the candles on his desk and picked up the candelabra, swinging it around to find the portrait that had spoken.

"It was one of your men," the portrait replied. Dumbledore identified it as Everard, a sallow faced man with short, black bangs. "He's been attacked. It looks rather bad."

"Who was it?"

"Arthur Weasley."

"Dilys?" Dumbledore asked. An elderly witch opened her eyes from where she had been pretending to slumber. "You were listening?"

"Naturally," she replied.

"Everard, you will need to raise the alarm. Make sure he is found by the right people—"

Both nodded and walked out of their frames.

Not wasting any time, Dumbledore sent a patronus to Professors Snape and McGonagall. Then, he turned to Fawkes and said, "We will need a warning." The bird disappeared with a flash. The old man swooped upon one of the delicate instruments in his office, carried it to his desk, sat down again, and tapped it gently with the tip of his wand.

The instrument tinkled into life at once with rhythmic clinking noises. Tiny puffs of pale green smoke issued from the minuscule silver tube at the top. Dumbledore watched the smoke closely, his brow furrowed, and after a few seconds, the tiny puffs became a steady stream of smoke that thickened and coiled in the air….A serpent's head grew out of the end of it, opening its mouth wide.

"Naturally, naturally," Dumbledore muttered to himself, still observing the stream of smoke without the slightest sign of surprise. "But in essence divided?"

The smoke serpent split itself into two snakes, both coiling and undulating in the dark air. With a look of grim satisfaction, Dumbledore gave the instrument another tap with his wand: the clinking noise slowed and died, and the smoke serpents grew faint, became a formless haze, and vanished. The door to his office opened just as Dumbledore replaced the object on its spindly little table. McGonagall and Snape rushed in. Before either of them could ask what was going on, Everard reappeared in his portrait, panting slightly.

"Dumbledore!"

"What news?" Dumbledore asked immediately.

"I yelled until someone came running," the wizard informed him as he mopped his brow on the curtain behind him, "They carried him up and I went to Elfrida Cragg's portrait to make sure they left for St. Mungo's—"

"Good," Dumbledore said, "I take it Dilys will have seen him arrive, then—"

And moments later, the silver-ringletted witch had reappeared in her picture too; she sank, coughing, into her armchair and said, "Yes, they've taken him to St. Mungo's, Dumbledore…they carried him past under my portrait…He looks bad…"

"Thank you," Dumbledore said.

He looked around at McGonagall and Snape.

"Minerva, Severus, I need you to wake the Weasley children and bring them here."

"Of course…"

"Yes, Albus…"

Snape paused at the door and asked, "What has happened?"

"Arthur Weasley has been attacked," Dumbledore replied.

McGonagall's hands leapt to her mouth.

"What about Molly?" she asked.

"Fawkes will alert her when he has finished keeping a lookout for anybody approaching," Dumbledore replied. "But she may already know…that excellent clock of hers…"

With a nod, the two left.

 _LINE-BREAK_

"Weasley!" barked a stern voice.

Fred opened his eyes groggily.

"Wha'…?" he asked, squinting at the dark form of their Head of House standing in between his and his brother's beds.

"Get up, both of you!" the man barked quietly.

Fred and George both climbed shakily to their feet and stared at the man. Harish pushed himself into a sitting position in his own bed, blinked at the light flooding in from the common room, observed Snape for a second, and then asked, "What's going on?"

Ignoring him, Snape looked between the two red-heads and ordered, "Come with me."

With that, he strode out of the dormitory with a flourish of his robes. The twins shared a look and then followed stiffly, with a few yawns. Worried, Harish pulled on his bed robe and followed them. Once into the common room, they found Ginny wrapped in her own bed robe and waiting on them.

"I need the three of you to come with me," Snape said.

"Where are we going?" George questioned as they were led to the entrance to the common room.

"The Headmaster's office," Snape replied curtly. Harish made his way to follow them, but Snape stopped him. With that, Harish turned back and sat on one of the couches while the three Weasleys and Professor Snape left.

They walked in silence out of the dungeons. Once they had gotten up into the entrance hall, the Slytherins were joined by Professor McGonagall and Ron, who was looking disheveled and shocked. He was in his night things as well.

"What's going on?" Ron asked, sidling closer to his siblings. "Professor McGonagall mentioned something about Dad being hurt—"

"What?" the other three red-heads squawked.

"I am sure the headmaster will inform the four of you properly before you are sent home," Snape drawled.

And with that they fell silent again.

Finally they reached Dumbledore's office. With a mutter of "Fizzing Whizbee" from Snape that earned five odd looks, the gargoyle standing guard in front of the old man's office leapt to the side and allowed them to pass. The wall behind it split in two to reveal a spiraling staircase that was steadily moving upward. The five children and two adults stepped onto it one by one and found themselves in front of a polished oak door.

The twins shot each other a look before Fred stepped forward and knocked the brass knocker that was in the shape of a griffin. The door opened of its own accord and the group walked inside the cluttered, circular office.

"What's going on?" Ginny asked with wide eyes.

"Your father has been injured in the course of his work for the Order of the Phoenix," Dumbledore replied. "He has been taken to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical maladies and Injuries. I am sending you home. Your mother already knows."

"How're we going?" Fred asked. "Floo powder?"

"No," Dumbledore said firmly. "Floo powder is not safe at the moment, the Network is being watched. You will be taking a Portkey." He indicated to an old kettle lying on his desk. "We are just waiting for—"

There was a flash of light in the center of his office, causing him to break off mid-sentence. Behind the flash, a single golden feather floated gently to the floor.

"It is Fawkes's warning," Dumbledore informed them, catching the feather as it fell. "She must know you're out of your beds…Minerva, go and head her off—tell any story—"

McGonagall was gone with a swish of tartan.

"Come here," Dumbledore then said to the Weasleys. "And quickly, before anyone else joins us…"

The twins and their two siblings gathered around Dumbledore's desk.

"You have all used a Portkey before?" Dumbledore asked, and they nodded each reaching out to touch some part of the blackened kettle. "Good. On the count of three, then…one…two…"

On the second of three, they each felt the familiar jerk behind the navel and suddenly they were speeding backwards. Then, suddenly they were standing in their living room in the Burrow—or rather, the twins were standing and Ron and Ginny were struggling to get to their feet.

 _LINE-BREAK_

Harish had no idea how long he sat there in his armchair in the common room, staring at the fire. He was no longer tired, nor was he properly awake. He had tried doze off in his armchair, but all he had resulted in was a weird crick in the neck. Then, he began wondering why the twins had been summoned to the headmaster's office. Were they somehow in trouble for selling joke products? Harish ruled this one out when he realized that he would have been summoned as well, not to mention the fact that Ginny went with them. Did Ginny help the twins in some sort of idiotic prank? No, Harish would have heard about it by then. Finally, Harish's questions died down and he resorted to staring at the fire in silence.

Then, the flames turned green and a head appeared in them.

"George!" Harish exclaimed, hopping off the chair and sliding down in front of the fire on his knees. "What happened? Where are you?"

"We're at the Burrow," George replied. "Ron's here too."

"Why?"

"Dumbledore says that Dad was attacked."

"How?"

"I don't know," George replied uneasily. "Mum is really upset. She pounced on us and tried to hug us all at once…Fred and I only just managed to escape and sneak up to our rooms."

"So," Harish ventured. "Your father was attacked? By whom?"

George shook his head.

"All we know is that he was doing something for the Order."

"You don't—" Harish said, pausing as he tried to put his thoughts together. "You don't think this has something to do with Sirius's undercover work?"

Again, George shook his head and muttered, "I dunno…"

There was a pause of silence, and Harish asked, "When are you coming back?"

"Not until after the holidays," George replied. "We had, of course, wanted to see Dad right away, but we aren't allowed to yet. Dumbledore thinks it'd be suspicious if we appeared to see him before the hospital called Mum. She says that it will be at least a day before the hospital fire-calls, and it may be even longer before Dad is well enough to visit. Either way, we're stuck here 'till he's fine."

"What're we gonna do for the holidays now?" Harish wondered aloud. "We were planning on you two coming to my house…"

"Perhaps Mum might let us go," George mused, looking down. His eyes snapped up to Harish and said, "I'll go ask."

And with a pop, his head disappeared and the flames died down to glowing embers.

Harish must have dozed off leaning against his chair, for he woke late the next morning and had to scramble to get ready for class. For a whole, Harish did not enjoy that last week of school before the holidays at all. Without the twins, he seemed small and vulnerable. Everyone in his year kept asking awkward questions and stared at him. Even though his bookends did not eat at those last meals, the space where they should have sat remained empty (mostly because no one dared sitting directly beside the son of the Dark Lord.)

So it was a very relieved and happy Harish that boarded the Hogwarts Express that Saturday: Christmas had officially begun.

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	113. Part 7: Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Eighteen: Christmas Surprises**

Harish apparated straight from the platform to Slytherin Manor. There, he found his father waiting for him to arrive.

"How was the term?" Voldemort asked.

"Is there a reason Nagini attacked Mr. Weasley?" Harish asked, setting his trunk down and leaning against the wall.

"What?" Voldemort asked.

"Arthur Weasley," Harish replied, "was found at the Ministry wounded by a snake. We both know what snake it was. So why did you do it?"

Voldemort grimaced.

"He wasn't supposed to be there," the Dark Lord said. Harish crossed his arms. "I know he is your friends' father, but he is still on the wrong side of the war. I could not let him see me there."

"What _were_ you doing at the Ministry?"

Voldemort crossed his legs and leaned back into his chair as if saying, "You tell me."

"You were after clues?"

Harish's father still did not reply, but a corner of his mouth quirked up.

"You know you shouldn't be out there trying to find Jugson. He attacked _me._ Let _me_ find him."

The man then sat up at that and said, "Do you realize that if I let you do so, you will be put into danger?"

"When am I not?"

There was a long tense moment where Voldemort stared into Harish's eyes, as if reading him, and Harish stared defiantly back. Then, the Dark Lord said, "I will hand over the mission to you, but I expect results."

"Don't worry, Father!" Harish exclaimed happily. "You will get them!"

And with that he levitated his trunk and dashed up to his room. The first thing he did was compose a letter to Daphne about his mission. Once finished, the young man spent the next few minutes unpacking and making sure nothing in his room had moved while he was gone. Then, he walked down to the sitting room and threw floo powder into the fire.

He got on his knees and stuck his head into the fire with a shout of, "The Burrow!"

His head spun and the green flames swirled in his eyes as grate after grate went past. Then, he found himself looking at the twins' room.

"Harish!" the both exclaimed, turning from where they had been adding the finishing touches to their latest joke product, punching telescopes.

"Did you find out whether you are staying at the Burrow or not?" Harish asked them.

The twins nodded.

"We'll stay until we get to see Dad," George replied.

"Then we'll come over for the rest of the holidays," Fred finished.

"And when will you see if your father is doing better?" Harish queried.

"Tomorrow actually," both redheads replied.

"So I'll see you in two days?" Harish asked.

The twins nodded.

"That is very well, then," Harish replied. "Hermione and Draco are coming over after Christmas Day and spending the rest of the holidays at my manor."

And the twins went back to making joke products as Harish ended the fire-call.

The next morning all of the Weasleys plus Moody and Tonks bundled up and flooed from the Burrow to St. Mungo's, where they arrived in the lobby full of people.

Mrs. Weasley led them to the front desk.

"Hello," she said. "My husband, Arthur Weasley, was supposed to be moved to a different ward this morning, could you tell us—?"

"Arthur Weasley?" the witch at th desk asked, running her finger down a long list in front of her. "Yes, first floor, second door on the right. Dai Llewellyn ward."

"Thank you," Mrs. Weasley said. "Come on, you lot."

They followed through the double doors and along the narrow corridor beyond, which was lined with portraits of famous healers and lit by crystal bubbles full of candles that floated up on the ceiling, looking like giant soapsuds. Witches and wizards in lime green robes walked in and out of the door they passed; a foul-smelling yellow gas wafted into the passageway as they passed one door, and every now and then they heard distant wailing. They climbed a flight of stairs and entered the "Creature-Induced Injuries" corridor, where the second door on the right bore the words "DANGEROUS" DAI LLEWELLYN WARD: SERIOUS BITES. Underneath this was a card in a brass holder on which had been written _Healer-in-Charge: Hippocrater Smethwyck, Trainee Healer: Augustus Pye._

"We'll wait outside, Molly," Tonks said. "Arthur won't want too many visitors at once…It ought to be just the family first."

Mad-Eye growled his approval of this idea and set himself with his back against the corridor wall, his magical eye spinning in all directions. The twins followed their siblings inside.

The ward was small and rather dingy as the only window was narrow and set high in the wall facing the door. Most of the light came from more shining crystal bubbles clustered in the middle of the ceiling. The walls were of paneled oak and there was a portrait of a rather vicious-looking wizard on the wall, captioned URQUHART RACKHARROW, 1612-1697, INVENTOR OF THE ENTRAIL-EXPELLING CURSE.

There were only three patients. Mr. Weasley was occupying the bed at the far end of the ward beside the tiny window. The twins were relieved to see that he was propped up on several pillows and reading the _Daily Prophet_ by the solitary ray of sunlight falling onto his bed. He looked around as they walked toward him and, seeing whom it was, beamed.

"Hello!" he called, throwing the _Prophet_ aside. "Bill just left, Molly, had to get back to work, but he says he'll drop in on you later…"

"How are you, Arthur?" Mrs. Weasley asked, bending down to kiss his cheek and looking anxiously into his face. "You're still looking a bit peaky…"

"I feel absolutely fine," Mr. Weasley returned brightly, holding out his good arm to give Ginny a hug. "If they could only take the bandages off, I'd be fit to go home."

"Why can't they take them off, Dad?" Fred asked.

"Well, I start bleeding like mad every time they try," his father replied cheerfully, reaching across for his wand, which was lying on his beside cabinet, and waving it so that five extra chairs appeared at his bedside to seat them all. "It seems there was some rather unusual kind of poison in that snake's fangs that keeps wounds open…" The twins shared a worried glance, knowing exactly whose snake it was. "They're sure they'll find an antidote, though, they say they're had much worse cases than mine, and in the meantime I just have to keep taking a Blood-Replenishing Potion every hour, But that fellow over there," he said, dropping his voice and nodding toward the bed opposite in which a man lay looking green and sickly and staring at the ceiling. "Bitten by a _werewolf_ , poor chap. No cure at all."

"A werewolf?" Mrs. Weasley asked, looking alarmed. "Is he safe? Shouldn't he be in a private ward?"

"We still have two weeks before the full moon," her husband reminded her quietly. "They've been talking to him this morning, the Healers, you know, trying to persuade him he'll be able to lead an almost normal life. I said to him—didn't mention names, of course—but I said I knew a werewolf personally, very nice man, who finds the condition very easy to manage…"

"What did he say?" George asked.

"Said he'd give me another bite if I didn't shut up," the man replied sadly. "And that woman over _there_ ," he indicated to the only other occupied bed, "won't tell the Healers what bit her, which makes us all think she was handling something illegally. Whatever it was took a real chunk out of her leg, _very_ nasty smell when they take off the dressings."

"So, you going to tell us what happened, Dad?" Fred asked, pulling his chair closer to the bed.

"Well, there's not much to tell, is there?" Mr. Weasley replied. "I'd had a long day, dozed off, got sneaked up on, and bitten."

"Is it in the Prophet?" Fred continued to ask.

"You being bitten?" George finished.

"No, of course not," their father told them with a slight bitter smile. "the Ministry wouldn't want everyone to know a great, dirty serpent got me!"

"So, where were you when it happened, Dad?" George asked.

"Outside my office, of course," Mr. Weasley replied. "I had just woken up and realized I should've been home hours earlier and was leaving my office when I heard something behind me. Next thing I knew, I was face to face with a great snake's fangs!"

"That's enough questions for now," Mrs. Weasley said finally. "Arthur, Mad-Eye and Tonks are outside. They want to come see you. And you lot wait outside," she added to their children. "You can come and say good-bye afterward. Go on…"

They trooped back into the corridor. Moody and Tonks went into the ward and shut the door behind them.

"Well, does anyone else fancy tea?" Ginny said. Judging by the oddly cheerfulness of her voice, she was trying to distract her brothers from the fact that they had just been kicked out. It didn't work. The twins simply raised their eyebrows in an identical expression of ridicule.

But Ron was distracted.

"Where is the tea room?" he asked.

"Fifth floor," George replied, remembering the sign on the first floor that had where everything was.

They walked along the corridor through a set of doors and found a rickety staircase lined with more portraits of brutal-looking healers. The twins couldn't help but imagine what Harish would say about the state of the hospital—probably something about how they should really fix the hospital after three centuries of it being the only magical hospital in Magical Britain. Not to mention the fact that as they climbed the staircase, the Healers diagnosing odd complaints, and suggesting horrible remedies. Ron was seriously affronted when one of them told him that he had a bad case of spattergroit.

"What is that supposed to be?" Ron asked rudely and the Healer pursued him through six portraits, shoving others out of his way.

"'Tis a most grievous affliction of the skin, young master, that will leave you pockmarked and even more gruesome than you are now!"

The twins sniggered as Ron's ears turned red, and he shouted, "Watch who you're calling gruesome!"

"The only remedy is to take the liver of toad, bind it tight about your throat, stand naked at the full moon in a barrel of eels' eyes—"

"I have not got spattergroit!"

"But the unsightly blemishes on your visage, young master!"

"They're freckles!" Ron shouted. "Now get back in your own picture!"

The twins were now laughing so hard that they were red-faced and having trouble taking long breaths. They stood stock still and upright as Ron turned to them, trying not to laugh.

"What floor is this?" Ron asked.

"I think it's the fifth," Ginny replied.

"Nah, it's the fourth," George said.

"One more—"

But as they stepped onto the next landing, the twins came to an abrupt halt at the sight of a man with his faced pressed against the window. He had wavy blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a dazed sort of smile that revealed dazzling white teeth.

"What's wrong with you?" Ron asked, shoving his way onto the landing. "Why are you—?"

"Professor Lockhart!" Ginny exclaimed.

Their ex-Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher pushed open the doors and moved toward them, wearing a long lilac dressing gown.

"Why, hello there!' he said. "I expect you'll be wanting my autograph, will you?"

"Hasn't changed much, has he?" Ron muttered, causing Ginny to smile.

Meanwhile, Fred was asking his twin, "Do you think he remembers that we're the reason he ended up here?"

George shrugged.

"Uh, how are you, Professor?" Ginny asked.

"I'm very well, thank you!" Lockhart said exuberantly, pulling a rather battered peacock-feathered quill from his pocket. "Now, how many autographs would you like? I can do joined-up writing now, you know!"

"Er—we don't want any at the moment, thanks," Ron said.

But just then a head poked out of a door at the far end of the corridor and a voice said, "Gilderoy, you naughty boy, where have you wandered off to?"

A motherly looking Healer wearing a tinsel wreath in her hair came bustling up the corridor, smiling widely at the Weasleys.

"Oh, Gilderoy, you've got visitors! How _lovely_ , and around Christmas too! Do you know, he _never_ gets visitors—"

"Gee I wonder why," George muttered and the twins sniggered.

"—poor lamb, and I can't think why, he's such a sweetie, aren't you?"

"We're doing autographs!" Lockhart exclaimed to the Healer with a glittery smile. "They want loads of them! Won't take no for an answer! I just hope we've got enough photographs!"

"Listen to him," the Healer said fondly, as if he were a precious two-year-old. "He was rather well known a few years ago; we hope very much that this linking for giving out autographs is a sign that his memory might be coming back a bit. Will you step this way? He's on a closed ward, you know, he must've slipped out when I was bringing in lunch, the door's usually kept locked…not that he's dangerous! But—" she lowered her voice to a whisper, "bit of a danger to himself, bless him…Doesn't know who he is, you see, wanders off and can't remember how to get back…It _is_ nice of you to come and see him—"

"Well…" Fred said, but Ginny elbowed him in the side and he trailed off, rubbing his side furiously.

Ginny must have felt pity for their old professor, for she led her three older brothers down the corridor, following the Healer. On the way, Ron muttered to the twins, "Let's not stay long."

The Healer pointed her wand at the door of the Janus Thickey ward and muttered, " _Alohamora!_ " The door swung open and she led the way inside, keeping a firm grasp on Lockhart's arm until she had settled him into an armchair beside his bed.

"This is our long-term resident ward," she told the Weasley children in a low voice. "For permanent spell damage, you know. Of course, with remedial potions and charms and a bit of luck, we can produce a bit of an improvement…Gilderoy does seem to be getting back to some sense of himself, and we've seen a real improvement in Mr. Rowle—" at this, the twins shot each other a look as the Healer continued in saying, "he seems to be regaining the power of speech very well, though we haven't recognized any language yet…Well, I must finish handing out lunch, I'll leave you to chat."

The twins looked around. It was certainly easy to tell that they were in a permanent ward; the wall around Lockhart's bed was plastered in pictures of himself. He had autographed many of them in childish, disjointed writing. The moment he been deposited in his chair by the Healer, he had pulled a fresh stack towards himself, seized a quill, and started signing feverishly.

"You can put them in envelopes," he said to Ginny, throwing the pictures into her lap one by one as he signed them. "I am not forgotten, you know, no, I still receive a very great deal of fanmail…Gladys Gudgeon writes _weekly_ …I just wish I knew _why_ …" He paused, looking faintly puzzled, then beamed again and returned to signing with renewed vigor. "I suspect it is simply my good looks…"

Rowle lay in the bed opposite, facing the ceiling. He had a big build, but his skin was shrunken and his cheeks were sunken and sallow. His blonde hair had gotten long and was turning white. The twins remembered that it was Voldemort's obtaining the prophecy that had sent the man here; he had been there for nearly five years and was only regaining the ability to speak. Two beds along from him was a woman whose entire head was covered in fur. At the end of the ward, flowery curtains had been drawn around two beds to give the patients and their visitors a little privacy.

The twins turned back to where Ginny was still stuffing pictures into envelopes while Lockhart was happily telling her about how there was a possibility there might be a fake window installed in their ward with weather and everything.

"Mrs. Longbottom, are you leaving already?"

All of the Weasleys' heads turned at the name "Longbottom". The curtains had been drawn back to reveal two people walking back down the aisle between the beds; a formidable old witch wearing a long, green dress, a moth-eaten fox fur, and a pointed hat with what was unmistakably a stuffed vulture, and trailing along behind her looking thoroughly depressed was Neville.

"Neville!" Ron exclaimed.

Neville stopped, with his feet planted in the ground, and turned his head slowly to face Ron. There was a rather disagreeable look on his face and he wouldn't look at any of them.

"Friends of yours, Neville dear?" Mrs. Longbottom asked graciously, bearing down on them all. Neville mumbled something inaudible, but she paid him no mind. "You are Weasleys, are you not?"

The twins nodded.

"He's told me a lot about you…He's a good boy, though nowhere near as good as his father."

She jerked her head towards the curtains.

"What?" Ron asked, wide-eyed and annoyingly. "That's your _dad_ back there?"

A dull purple blush crept up Neville's face and his glare hardened at the floor. It was obvious he would have punched Ron in that instant, had his grandmother not been there.

"What's this, Neville?" Mrs. Longbottom asked. "You haven't told them?"

Neville took a deep breath, looked up at the ceiling, and shook his head.

"Well it's nothing to be ashamed of!" Mrs. Longbottom continued harshly. "You should be _proud_ , Neville _proud_! Your parents didn't give their health and their sanity so that their only son would be ashamed of them, you know!"

"I'm not ashamed," Neville said faintly, now watching every picture of Lockhart wink and smile.

"Well, you have a very funny way of showing it!" his grandmother exclaimed angrily. "My son and his wife," she said haughtily, turning towards the Weasleys, "were tortured into insanity by You-Know-Who's followers."

Ron suddenly stopped craning his neck to get a good look at Neville's parents, mortified.

"They were aurors, you know, and well respected within the community," Mrs. Longbottom went on. "Highly gifted the pair of them. I—yes, Alice dear, what is it this time?"

Neville's mother had come edging down the ward in her nightdress. She did not seem to want to speak, or perhaps she couldn't anyway, but she gestured toward Neville, beckoning him towards her and holding something in her outstretched hand.

"Again?" Mrs. Longbottom asked wearily. "Very well, Alice dear, very well—Neville take it, whatever it is…"

But Neville had already outstretched his hand into which his mother dropped an empty candy wrapper.

"Very nice, dear," Mrs. Longbottom said in a falsely cheery voice, but Neville said quietly, "Thanks, Mum."

His mother tottered away, humming to herself. Neville looked around at the others, his expression defiant, as though daring them to laugh, though none of them did.

"Well, we better get back," Mrs. Longbottom sighed, pulling on green gloves. "Very nice to meet you all. Neville, put that wrapper in the bin, she must've given you enough to paper your whole bedroom by now…"

But as they left, the others were sure they saw the boy slip it into his pocket instead.

The door closed behind them.

"I never knew," Ron muttered, sounding regretful.

"Nor I," Ginny mumbled.

"Nor did we," the twins added.

"She keeps me up at night, mumbling to herself," Lockhart complained with annoyance. "Now. Are you going to take these or not? I didn't learn joined-up writing for nothing, you know!"

The next morning the twins flooed to Harish's house as promised.

"My father is in a meeting right now," Harish said. "And he would prefer that we aren't in the house. It's his last meeting before the end of the holidays you know. So, I thought we could go to Diagon Alley and look for premises for a joke shop."

"All right," Fred said.

"Do you have the money for it with you?" George asked.

Harish pulled a large sack of gold coins out of his enlarged money bag. It was his winnings from the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

"Are we Apparating or going by floo?" Fred queried.

"Floo," Harish replied. "That way's quieter."

And the twins nodded and turned back to the fire where Harish threw in flew powder. One by one the three of them stepped into the green flames and called out, "Diagon Alley!"

Harish, the first through, leaned against a wall of the Leaky Cauldron until both twins were standing beside him. Then, the three of them went through the gateway and into the alley itself.

"I've heard there's an empty building this way," Harish said, pointing towards Eyelop's Owl Emporium. "It's two story—an apartment over the shop area…"

They walked there and looked at a for sale sign that hung on the door. Harish walked forward and knocked on the door. A faint alarm sounded and a wizard apparated just inside the building and opened the door for them.

"Hello, boys," he said. "Looking at buying a shop?"

Harish nodded.

"This is our last year at Hogwarts," Fred explained.

"And we're looking into starting a business," George said.

"Well, I'll be happy to show you around," the man said. He seemed old, and stooped slightly. As he led them further into the shop area, he wiped his brow with an old handkerchief.

Harish looked around and saw shelfs to the right and lining the back wall. Along the left wall was the counter to pay. The man led them through three backrooms and then into a fourth where there was a set of stairs up to the apartment area. Up there was a bedroom, an extra room )probably used for a study or something), and a bathroom.

"This looks to be in good shape," Harish said finally. "How long could it be before it's ready?"

"Well," the man said. "I still have to move out, and we have the purchase of the building to consider. Plus I imagine the papers may take a few weeks to get through the Ministry."

"I've got the money right here," Harish said, pulling out his prize money.

Out of the large sack, he pulled a smaller sack and said, "This is the amount you want, right?"

The man nodded with a dazed look.

Harish handed the money to him.

"Be sure to send us any papers we need to sign," George said.

"And let us know when we can move in!" Fred said happily as the three left the empty shop.

And with that, the three of them left and returned to Slytherin Manor, where they went quietly up to Harish's bedroom and stayed until the Death Eaters were gone. The next day, Christmas Eve, was spent playing Quidditch, discussing Jugson and who he might be working for, and eating a large dinner with Harish's father. The next morning they woke to three large piles of presents.

"Not a bad turn out," Fred muttered, going through his parcels.

"This note from Ginny says that Percy sent back his sweater," George said, his eyebrows lowered in a dark expression. "Didn't even send a note."

Fred looked at the note over his brother's shoulder.

"' _And mum's been crying her eyes out for the past two days'_ ," he read. He shook his head and set his half-unwrapped sweater on the bed. "And suddenly I'm not in the mood for presents."

"C'mon guys," Harish said. "We already knew Percy was a prat. Let's just go downstairs and eat a nice big breakfast."

"You're right," George said with a sigh, throwing the note onto his bed. "C'mon, Fred."

After breakfast they finally got around to opening the rest of their presents. Harish's comprised of a planner from Hermione, joke products from the twins, chocolate frogs from Neville, a practice Snitch from Dean, and Daphne gave him Honeydukes hot fudge (plus both of the twins got pointy hats with gaudy feathers and there was no card that said who it was from).

The next day, Draco and Hermione arrived and the five of them hung out, lounging around not doing much other than listen to Hermione's stories about the skiing trip she had just gotten back from. Harish found it mildly interesting, but soon discovered that Hermione did not actually enjoy it.

"But don't tell Fred that," she told him. "Because I don't want to ruin his fun."

For indeed Fred found it rather hilarious that Muggles strapped strips of wood to their feet and slid down mountainsides. Finally, they all boarded the Hogwarts Express and returned to Hogwarts three days after New Year's.

* * *

 **TTFN**


	114. Part 7: Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Nineteen: Extracurricular—er—Project!**

For the first time he could remember, Harish _really_ did not want to return to Hogwarts. But, as all good things do, Christmas came to an end, and before Harish knew it he was stepping off the train and boarding the carriages with his friends. Then, they trudged through three feet of snow to get to the castle and practically melted at the warmth inside.

The next day Harish had people running up to him all day long, asking whether they had a DA meeting or not. Harish really would have liked to have a DA meeting, but at the same time he wanted to wait a week to readjust to school (and plan out their lesson because he had forgotten to do so over the break). So, he put off the meeting for that week.

They trudged through their classes, Harish once again sitting in Defense Against the Dark Arts with nothing better to do than watch Umbridge defiantly. Harish did notice that even though they were on NEWT level, their classes were nowhere near as taxing and they did not have close to the same work load as it was in their fifth year.

That evening, Harish started on an essay for Transfiguration while the twins showed off their new joke product. It was actually funny how this product was made; the twins had laughed at their ridiculous hats they got for Christmas, before Harish had jokingly mentioned that they should make it into a joke product. The next thing he knew, the twins were sitting around his living room day and night, charming the hats.

Now the item was ready to show off.

"Headless Hats!" George shouted as Fred waved the pointy hat, causing the pink feather to sway this way and that. "Two Galleons each—watch Fred, now!"

Fred swept the hat onto his head, beaming. For a second he merely looked rather stupid, then both hat and head vanished. A few first year girls screamed, but everyone else was roaring with laughter. It was so loud, there was no possibility of Harish concentrating on his work.

"And off again!" George shouted, and Fred's hand groped for a moment in what seemed to be thin air over his shoulder; this his head reappeared as he swept the pink-feathered hat from it again.

"How do those hats work, then?" Hermione asked, distracted from her work as well and watching the twins. "I mean, obviously it's some kind of Invisibility Spell, but it's rather clever to have extended the field of invisibility beyond the boundaries of the charmed object…I'd imagine the charm wouldn't have a very long life though…"

"Oh, you'd be surprised," Harish said, standing and stretching.

Then he walked over to where the twins were standing. Fred had just put the hat on again and the crowd was waiting for his head to disappear.

"You need to shorten the time between putting on the hat and the invisibility kicking in," he muttered to George, who was scribbling on a clipboard and accepting money from the crowd.

"I know," George replied. "Can you cast a duplication spell, by the way? We're getting too many orders to wait to buy more hats. We would have to wait for them to come in, and then we would have to spend extra time charming them…"

"I don't know a spell that would be able to duplicate both the hat itself and the charms on it," Harish replied. "But I can work on it."

George nodded gratefully.

"Well," Harish said, slapping Fred on the back hard enough to make him jerk forward, and the hat went flying. "I'm turning in."

The next morning Harish finished his essay up during breakfast. Across from him, Hermione was reading the _Prophet_ avidly. Talk in their group suddenly stopped as she straightened out the paper, laid it across the table, and said, "Look at this."

Harish turned the paper towards him and glanced at the front page. Nine black-and-white photos filled the whole page, all of them wizards' faces. Some of the people in the pictures were silently jeering; others were tapping their fingers on the frame, looking insolent. Each picture was captioned with a name and the crime for which the person had been sent o Azkaban.

 _Antonin Dolohov_ , the legend read underneath a wizard with a long, pale, twisted face who was looking curiously up at Harish, _convicted of the brutal murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewett._

 _Augustus Rookwood,_ another caption read. This one was underneath a pock-marked man with greasy hair who was leaning against the edge of his picture, looking bored. _Convicted of leaking Ministry of Magic Secrets to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._

Harish went through the faces, picking out the ones he recognized and mentally filing away the ones he didn't. Then, Daphne nudged him and pointed at the headline over the pictures.

 _ **Mass Breakout from Azkaban Ministry Fears Black is "Rallying Point" for Old Death Eaters**_

"I don't think they realize how close they are to the real culprit," Fred muttered to George. Harish waved a hand for silence and leaned forward to read the article.

 _The Ministry of Magic announced late last night that there had been a mass breakout from Azkaban._

 _Speaking to reporters in his private office, Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, confirmed that nine high-security prisoners escaped in the early hours of yesterday evening, and that he had already informed the Muggle Prime Minister of the dangerous nature of these individuals._

" _We find ourselves, most unfortunately, un the same position we were two and a half years ago when the murderer Sirius Black escaped," said Fudge last night. "Nor do we think the two breakouts are unrelated. An escape of this magnitude suggests outside help, and we must remember that Black, as the first person ever to break out of Azkaban, would be ideally placed to help others follow in his footsteps. We think it likely that these individuals have rallied around Black as their leader. We are, however, doing all we can to round up the criminals and beg the magical community to remain alert and cautious. On no account should any of these individuals be approached."_

Harish stopped reading and sat back as the others read the first page. While they did that, he glanced around the Great Hall. No student seemed to know or care that Death Eaters had broken out. It was a different story entirely at the staff table, however. Dumbledore and McGonagall were deep in conversation, both look extremely grave. Professor Sprout had the _Prophet_ propped against a bottle of ketchup and was reading the page with such concern that she was not noticing the gentle drip of egg yolk falling into her lap from her stationary spoon. Meanwhile, at the far end of the table, Umbridge was tucking into a bowl of porridge. For once her pouchy eyes were not sweeping the Great Hall looking for misbehaving students. She scowled as she gulped down her food and every now and then she shot a malevolent glance up the table to where Dumbledore and McGonagall were talking so intently.

The twins finally finished reading the article as Harish's eyes returned to their own table. As Hermione took the paper back and read the rest of it, Harish asked eagerly, "Do you know what this means?"

The others shook their heads.

"It means that my father is preparing for war."

There was a moment of silence as everyone contemplated this, eating their breakfasts again. Then, the silence was broken by Ginny, who was reading over Hermione's shoulder and said, "Oh, my—"

"What now?" Harish asked curiously.

"Look," Hermione said, handing the paper back.

 _ **Tragic Demise of Hospital Patient**_

 _St. Mungo's Hospital promised a full inquiry last night after their patient, Thorfinn Rowle was discovered dead in his bed, strangled by a potted plant. Healers called to the scene where unable to revive Mr. Rowle, who had been injured in a workplace accident some weeks prior to his death._

 _Healer Miriam Strout, who was in charge of Mr. Rowle's ward at the time of the incident, has been suspended on full pay and was unavailable for comment yesterday, but a spokeswizard for the hospital said in a statement, "St. Mungo's deeply regrets the death of Mr. Rowle, whose health was improving steadily prior to this tragic accident._

" _We have strict guidelines on the decorations permitted on our wards, but it appears Healer Strout, busy over the Christmas period, overlooked the dangers of the plant on Mr. Rowle's bedside table. As his speech and mobility improved, Healer Strout encouraged Mr. Rowle to look after the plant himself, unaware that it was not an innocent Flitterbloom, but a cutting of Devil's Snare, which, when touched by the convalescent Mr. Rowle, throttled him instantly._

" _St. Mungo's is as yet unable to account for the presence of the plant on the ward and asks any witch or wizard with information to come forward."_

"We saw him," Ginny said just above a whisper. "Me, Fred, George, and Ron. We were at St. Mungo's and saw Lockhart and—"

"Long story short," George said. "We got trapped in a closed ward with Lockhart—"

"Who's still an idiot, and saw Rowle on the bed opposite. He was only just regaining the ability to speak."

"This was obviously my father's doing," Harish said in an even quieter voice. "He probably wanted him silenced. After all, Rowle was a Death Eater. If he had started talking well enough to be questioned, he could divulge important information—specifically about the prophecy and why my father wanted it."

"Was there any reason why your father had him go after the prophecy in the first place?" Hermione asked.

"Wasn't it because he wanted to get Rowle back?" George asked.

"Yeah, because his son attacked you?" Fred added.

Harish nodded.

"That was the reason he said in the meeting," he said. "But ever since Jugson attacked me, I've been wondering…What if more people turned on him than just that one person?"

* * *

 **TTFN**


	115. Part 7: Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty: Valentine's Visits**

—BY ORDER OF—

 _ **The High Inquisitor of Hogwarts**_

 _Teachers are hereby banned from giving students any information that is not strictly related to the subjects they are paid to teach._

 _The above is in accordance to Educational Decree Number Twenty-six._

This latest decree had started with teachers whispering to each other and even a few students about the article that informed the public of the breakout in corridors, but had turned into a joke within a week. Students would tell their teachers that they weren't allowed to tell them not to do things like play Exploding Snap because it didn't relate to the subject.

Harish had hoped that the breakout might have humbled Umbridge a little, that she might have been abashed at the catastrophe that had occurred right under her beloved Fudge's nose. It seemed, however to have only intensified her furious desire to bring every aspect of life at Hogwarts under her personal control. She seemed determined at the very least to achieve a sacking before long. The only question was whether it would be Trelawney, or after the fifth years found out he was on probation at their first Care class of the term, Hagrid.

Every single Divination and Care of Magical Creatures lesson was now conducted in the presence of Umbridge and her clipboard. She lurked by the fire in the heavily perfumed tower room, interrupting Trelawney's increasingly hysterical talks with difficult questions. She hovered over the students on the grounds while Hagrid flustered to maintain a steady lesson. Even though he was not showing them anything dangerous, he seemed oddly jumpy throughout all of the lessons and kept glancing anxiously back at Umbridge.

But while all of that was going on, Harish hardly payed a bit of attention. He was busy finalizing their last joke products with the twins, every Monday evening he was involved in teaching DA, and on top of that the teachers were finally starting to give them mounds of homework again. With all of that, January seemed to be passing alarmingly fast.

As February grew closer, Harish decided to take Daphne on the Hogsmeade trip that was on the fourteenth. It would most likely be one of the last ones he would go to, so he naturally wanted to spend it with his girlfriend. He had casually asked her towards the end of January, and she had said yes, of course.

So on Valentine's Day, Harish and Daphne met up in the common room, both dressed up slightly. Daphne looked radiant as ever with her shiny brown hair curled. Harish walked up to her, bowed slightly, and held out a rose.

"Oh, it's lovely!" Daphne said, taking it from him.

She smelled it, and within seconds it changed into a bottle of perfume with a pop.

"Did you make this?" she asked in surprise.

"It was the twins' idea," Harish replied, rubbing the back of his head.

"It's sweet," she replied with another wide smile.

"Do you want to go?" he asked.

"Just give me a second and I'll go put this away," Daphne replied and she dashed out of the common room. Harish stood there awkwardly by himself for a few minutes, and then his date reemerged from the girls' dormitories.

Harish took her by the arm and the two of them walked out of the common room, up into the Entrance Hall from the dungeons, and out into the fresh air in comfortable silence. Once outside, Harish glanced longingly at the Quidditch pitch.

"You should be able to play Quidditch again," she told him.

"But," he said sadly, "she gave me a life-long ban!"

Daphne shook her head.

"That's only in effect while she's here, and may I recall that no teacher has ever lasted more than a year?"

"Still," Harish sighed. "This was my last year to play at Hogwarts."

They spent the next few minutes talking about Quidditch and insulting Umbridge, a topic which lasted them until they reached the village itself. Once there, Harish and Daphne went in and out of a few shops. It started to drizzle lightly when they left Zonko's.

As the rain began to fall heavier, Harish asked, "Do you want to go into the Three Broomsticks?"

Daphne shrugged, "Why not?"

So the two of them ran into the pub to dry off. They chose a seat near the window and Harish cast a heating charm that dried the both of them.

"Thanks," Daphne said.

Rosmerta came up to their table seconds later.

"Two butterbeers, please," Harish requested.

Rosmerta nodded and walked off, her shiny high heels clicking as she went.

"So what are you planning on doing next year, once you have left Hogwarts?" Daphne asked Harish.

"Start a joke shop," he replied. "The twins and I have already bought the premises for the shop. It even comes with a flat that's right above the shop that the three of us will be sharing."

"So you think your joke products will do well?"

"Oh, I know they will," Harish told her confidently. "Tell me, did you enjoy the rose I gave you?" Daphne nodded. "That will be part of our line that caters mostly to young witches like yourself."

Daphne laughed, "Wow, you three really have this planned out, don't you?"

"Yeah," Harish responded. "I mean, we _have_ been planning this joke shop since…what, our second year?"

Daphne laughed again.

"Leave to the three of you to plan something like this five years in advance," she said.

"Yeah," Harish agreed. "Did I tell you about the time we pulled a prank just to fund raise for the joke shop?"

"No."

"Well we flooded the corridors and charged other Slytherins five galleons for a ride on a broom to their classes."

Daphne shook her head.

"What are you planning on naming the joke shop?"

"Now that," he tapped his nose. "Is our little secret for now."

Daphne rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

There was another pause of comfortable silence, which was broken by Daphne, "Hey, is that Hermione?"

Harish glanced around. In a table at the back corner sat Hermione, accompanied by the least expected companions: Luna Lovegood and Rita Skeeter.

"Do you mind joining them?" Harish asked.

"No," Daphne said, her eyes alight. "I'm curious as to what's going on as well."

So the two of them got up and walked over to the table, where they slid into empty seats.

"What're you doing here?" Harish asked.

"I don't know," Rita said, folding her arms. "Miss Priss was about to tell me when you two arrived."

Unemployment was not doing the reporter well. She used to have bouncy blonde curls, but now her hair lay lank and unkempt. Her nail polish was chipped and several gems were missing from her glasses. She took a deep sip of her drink and sat back.

"I want you to write an article for me," Hermione told her. "And I believe it is something you may enjoy."

"Somehow I highly doubt that," Skeeter replied skeptically with an eyebrow raised.

"So you don't want a mission where you can ruin someone's life with one article?" Hermione asked, sounding disappointed and slightly mischievous.

"Whose?" Rita asked, leaning forward.

"Albus Dumbledore," Hermione replied with a smirk, leaning forward as well.

* * *

 **Dun-dun-DUNNNN!**

 **TTFN**


	116. Part 7: Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-One: One Professor Down**

That evening the entire group met together at dinner. Fred and George came in towards the end and shoved food onto their plates without a word. Then, once they had finished, Harish got up and the others followed.

"We were just watching the Gryffindor team's practice," Fred informed him.

"And our team looks bad without us," George continued, "but nowhere near as bad as the Gryffindor team."

"That's a relief," Harish said.

They started down the steps to the dungeons.

"You know, Quidditch was about the only thing in this place worth staying for," Fred grumbled.

Hermione shot him a stern look.

"You've got exams coming!"

"Told you already, we're not fussed about NEWT's," Fred said. "The Snackboxes are ready to roll, we found out how to get rid of those boils, just a couple of drops of murtlap essence sorts them."

"I discovered it," Harish said, holding up a finger.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

The match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff was short. The Gryffindor spectators had to endure only twenty-two minutes of agony. It was hard to say what the worst thing was: Neville thought it was a close-run contest between Ron's fourteenth failed save, Sloper missing the Bludger but hitting Angelina in the mouth with his bat, and Kirke shrieking and falling backward off his broom as Zacharias Smith zoomed at him carrying the Quaffle. The miracle was that Gryffindor only lost by ten points: Dean managed to snatch the Snitch from right under Hufflepuff Seeker Summerby's nose, so that the final score was two hundred and forty versus two hundred and thirty.

"Good catch," Neville had said to Dean after the match.

"I was lucky," he shrugged. "It wasn't a very fast Snitch and Summerby's got a cold, he sneezed and closed his eyes at exactly the wrong moment."

But the good thing was, even though Hufflepuff had won and was now catching up, the Slytherins were still in the lead. Harish was glad of this, because if Hufflepuff had scored enough points to put them ahead of Slytherin, Harish would have lost his mind. The only thing worse than having to watch his team play without you was to watch his team lose. It didn't help that this was his last year at Hogwarts and he had been the Captain of the team.

It was infuriating enough that Umbridge had been sitting on a few rows below Harish, Hermione, Daphne, and the twins. Once or twice she had turned squatly in her seat to look at him, her toad-like mouth stretched in what had to have been a wide, gloating smile. The memory of it made Harish seethe with anger.

He stared out the window for a long time, angry at Hogwarts in general. Then, when he and the twins turned in for the night, he said to them, "We need to escape from this place soon, or I'll lose my mind."

The next morning they entered the Great Hall at the exact same moment as the post owls. Hermione was no longer the only person eagerly awaiting her _Daily Prophet_ : Nearly everyone was eager for more news about the escaped Death Eaters, who, despite many sightings, had still not been caught. There were some Slytherins that didn't care, but there were others that checked to make sure the Death Eaters had _not_ been caught.

But this time, Hermione was not awaiting the Prophet for that reason, but another entirely. She had tasked Rita Skeeter with finding any dirt she could on Dumbledore. Then, she had allowed Rita to give the story to the _Prophet_ as long as she wrote a rubbish story about Fudge for _The_ _Quibbler_.

Hermione gave the delivery owl a Knut and unfolded the newspaper eagerly while Harish helped himself to some orange juice. Then, he was forced to pull his glass away from the table as an owl landed where it had been moments before. He pulled a long cylindrical package off of its leg and ripped off the brown packaging.

Out rolled a furled copy of March's edition of _The_ _Quibbler_. He unrolled it to see Fudge scowling out at everyone at the table. In large red letters across the picture were the words:

 _ **Cornelius Fudge: Reliable or Deceitful?**_

"It's good, isn't it?" Luna asked, who had drifted over to the Slytherin table and now squeezed herself between Ginny and Hermione. "It came out yesterday, I asked Dad to send you a free copy."

While Hermione began to read Rita's article in the _Prophet,_ Harish tackled the story about Fudge in _The Quibbler_.

 _Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge has been discovered to be deceitful, weak, and a hopeless leader._ _Alarming evidence has recently come to light about the way Cornelius Fudge runs our society, which casts doubts on whether he should remain in his position of power or not. There are several factors that say he should not. Cornelius Fudge has been overstepping his bounds and tampering with the running of Magical Britain's most prestigious school, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; the Minister of Magic's depletion of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; and inevitably, the Ministry's failure to apprehend first Sirius Black, and now nine convicted Death Eaters._

 _Hogwarts is run by Headmaster Dumbledore, the Wizarding Examination Authority, and the Board of Governors. Starting at the top, the Board of Governors are in charge of appointing both Headmasters of Hogwarts and Head Chairmen of the Wizarding Examination Authority. The Wizarding Examination Authority are in charge of core curriculum and giving the students standard examinations in their core classes. Headmaster Dumbledore is tasked with appointing teachers, setting standards for extra-curricular classes, and making sure that school rules are obeyed._

 _Fudge overstepped his bounds by appointing Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, a teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The appointment of a teacher by the Ministry, when approved by the Board of Governors, is acceptable. However, it is not acceptable when that person that is appointed already has a full time job in the Ministry. Dolores Umbridge could very well be charged with neglecting of duty._

 _On top of that, eye-witnesses within the castle itself report that Umbridge, under orders from Minister Fudge, has not only been overriding the power of the Governors, but has been illegally using a blood contract implement on students, a fact which is certainly frowned upon._

 _Another thing that has recently come to light is the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Once a large, great force, our aurors now number less than one hundred in total. This is alarming for as most know, the aurors serve not only as our law enforcement, but our army and detective service as well. The sudden decrease in aurors, caused by a large depletion of funds over the years, has made the force weak and unable to do the simplest things._

 _A very good case of this is the Ministry's failure to capture Sirius Black. Convicted of the murder of thirteen Muggles with a single curse, it is not doubted that Black is a dangerous wizard. He escaped Azkaban prison over two years ago and the Minister has still failed to comprehend him. Not only that, but has now failed to capture nine escaped convicts._

 _So this brings up the question: Is Fudge really helping the Wizarding Community, or is he bringing it to ruin?_

After he finished reading the article about Fudge, he handed the edition of _The_ _Quibbler_ to Hermione. As she handed him the _Daily Prophet_ , she said, "Apparently she found so much information that she decided to write a book on Dumbledore rather than just an article."

 _ **Dumbledore—The Truth at Last?**_

 _Coming in six months, the shocking story of the flawed genius considered by many to be the greatest wizard of his generation. Stripping away the popular image of serene, silver-bearded wisdom, Rita Skeeter reveals the disturbed childhood, the lawless youth, and lifelong feuds, and the guilty secrets that Dumbledore has buried under a façade of light._

 _The details to those are explored in the explosive new biography,_ The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore _, by Rita Skeeter, exclusively interviewed by Betty Braithwaite, page 13, inside._

"What have you got there, Mrs. Granger?" came a simpering voice.

They all looked up, startled, to see Professor Umbridge leaning over their table.

"It's a copy of _The Quibbler_ , professor," Hermione replied, trying to shove it out of sight.

But Umbridge was too fast for her, she grabbed the article and read aloud _,_ " _'Cornelius Fudge: Reliable or Deceitful?_ '"

She stared down at the picture of Fudge, her pale, doughy face turning an ugly, patchy violet.

"How you dare…how you could…" she took a deep breath. "I have tried again and again to teach you children to do as you are told…No matter…"

She stalked away, clutching _The Quibbler_ to her chest, the eyes of many student following her.

By mid-morning enormous signs had been put up all over the school, not just on House notice boards, but in the corridors and classrooms as well.

—BY ORDER OF—

 _ **The High Inquisitor of Hogwarts**_

 _Any student found in possession of the magazine_ The Quibbler _will be expelled._

 _The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-seven_

The first time he saw one, Harish had laughed out loud, earning a confused look from Draco.

"What are you so happy about?" he had asked.

"Don't you understand?" Harish retorted. "If she could have done one thing to make absolutely sure that every single person in this school will read the article, it was banning it!"

And it seemed that Harish was quite right. By the end of that day, though Draco had not seen so much as a corner of _The Quibbler_ anywhere in the school, every student seemed to be quoting it to each other; they could be heard whispering about it as they queued up for classes, discussing it over lunch and in the back of lessons, while Hermione even reported that every occupant of the cubicles in the girls' toilets had been talking about it when she nipped in there before Ancient Runes.

"And when they spotted me, and obviously they know I know Draco, whose father works in the Ministry, so they were bombarding me with questions," Hermione told Harish with shining eyes.

"And you thought of this yourself?" Harish asked. "Turning the entire Wizarding population against our enemies with one article?"

For it was true. Students now knew exactly what Fudge was, and had been, doing and were openly sharing their views on it. There were some that either did not believe Fudge was doing those things intentionally, or they suspected that the Quibbler was over exaggerating them. But most knew that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was too small. They knew that Umbridge was using blood quills as a punishment. They knew that it was the Board of Governors' job to run the school and make new rules, not the Ministry's. From this, they determined that everything that article had said was true and no longer trusted their Minister of Magic.

Meanwhile Professor Umbridge was stalking school, stopping students at random and demanding that they turn out their books and pockets. It was obvious she was looking for copies of _The Quibbler_ , but the students were several steps ahead of her. The pages carrying the article on Fudge had been bewitched to resemble extracts from textbooks if anyone but themselves read it, or else wiped magically blank until they wanted to peruse it again. Soon it seemed that every single person in the school had read it.

To cap it all, Luna told Harish over dinner that no copy of _The Quibbler_ had ever sold out faster,

"Dad's reprinting!" she told them, her eyes popping excitedly. "He can't seem to believe it, he says people seem even more interested in this than the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks!"

And that night, the twins had daringly put an Enlargement Charm on the front cover of _The Quibbler_ and hung it on the wall, so that Fudge's head glared down at them all. They had made th headline flash different colors, changing from saying, " _Cornelius Fudge: Reliable or Deceitful?_ " to things like "The Minister is a Moron" and "Eat Dung Umbridge."

But even though students were forbidden to read the article, their parents were not. Concerned parents were sending Howlers and angry letters to Umbridge. After the first morning of Howlers, Umbridge stopped showing up for meals all together.

While this boosted the morale of the students, it also seemed to make Umbridge even more determined than ever to achieve a sacking. And they got results nearly three weeks after _The Quibbler_ had issued an article about the corruptness of their Minister of Magic.

Harish and the twins were demonstrating yet another joke product, taking up orders for it. Hermione, Draco, and Daphne were working on homework together on a couch nearby, and Ginny was petting Crookshanks, watching the twins. Suddenly everyone fell silent when they heard the screams of a woman.

"What's that?" Harish asked, cocking his head. "What's going on?"

Suddenly the entrance to the common room opened and a face poked in, saying, "You might want to come see this," with a grin.

Within a few minutes, all of the Slytherins had exited the dungeons and were pressing into the now packed Entrance Hall. The onlookers had formed a great ring, and the Slytherins pushed their way into it until they could see what was going on at the center. Professor McGonagall was directly opposite of the hall; she looked as though what she was watching made her feel faintly sick.

Professor Trelawney was standing in the middle of the Entrance Hall with her wand in one hand and an empty sherry bottle in the other, looking utterly mad. Her hair was sticking up on end, her glasses were lopsided so that one eye was magnified more than the other; her innumerable shawls and scarves were trailing haphazardly from her shoulders, giving the impression that she was falling apart at the seams. Two large trunks lay on the floor beside her; one of them upside down; it looked very much as thought it had been thrown down the stairs after her. Professor Trelawney was staring, apparently terrified, at something at the foot of the stairs that the Slytherins could not see.

"No!" she shrieked. "NO! This cannot be happening…It cannot…I refuse to accept it!"

"You didn't realize this was coming?" a high girlish voice asked, sounding callously amused, and Harish, moving to the right, saw it was Professor Umbridge. "Incapable though you are of predicting even tomorrow's weather, you must have surely realized that your pitiful performance during my inspections, and lack of any improvement, would make it inevitable you would be sacked?"

"You c-can't!" Trelawney howled, tears streaming down her face behind her enormous lenses, "you c-can't sack me! I've been here sixteen years! H-Hogwarts is m-my h-home!"

"It _was_ your home," Umbridge retorted with a wide smiled, "until an hour ago, when the Minister of Magic countersigned the order for your dismissal. Now kindly remove yourself from this hall. You are embarrassing us."

But she stood and watched with an expression of gloating enjoyment, as Professor Trelawney shuddered and moaned, rocking backward and forward on her trunk in paroxysms of grief. Then, McGonagall had broken away from the spectators and marched straight up to Trelawney, patting her firmly on the back while withdrawing a large handkerchief from within her robes.

"There, there, Sybill…Calm down…It's not as bad as you think, now…You are not going to have to leave Hogwarts…"

"Oh, really, Professor McGonagall?" Umbridge asked in a deadly voice, taking a few steps forward. "And your authority for that statement is…"

"That would be mine," said a deep voice.

The oak front doors had swung open. Students beside them scuttled out of the way as Dumbledore appeared in the entrance. What he had been doing out in the grounds, no one knew, but there was something impressive about the sight of him framed in the doorway against an oddly misty night. Leaving the doors wide behind him, he strode toward the place where Trelawney sat, tearstained and trembling, upon her trunk, McGonagall alongside her.

"Yours, Professor Dumbledore?" Umbridge countered with an unpleasant laugh. "I'm afraid you do not understand the position. I have here"—she pulled a parchment from within her robes—"an Order of Dismissal signed by myself and the Minister of Magic. Under the terms of Educational Decree Number Twenty-three—"

"Yes, yes, you are quite right," Dumbledore interrupted with a smile. "You have every right to dismiss my teachers. You do not, I am afraid, have the authority to force them to leave the castle. That," he went on with a courteous little bow, "is a power that still resides with the headmaster and it is my wish that Professor Trelawney continue to live at Hogwarts."

"No—no, I'll go, Dumbledore! I sh-shall l-leave Hogwarts and s-seek my fortuned elsewhere—"

"No," Dumbledore said sharply. "It is my wish that you remain, Sybill."

He turned to McGonagall.

"Might I ask you to escort Sybill back upstairs, Professor McGonagall?"

"Of course," McGonagall replied. "Up you get, Sybill…"

Professor Sprout came hurrying forward and grabbed her other arm. Flitwick joined them and following with a squeak of, " _Locomotor trunks!_ " and Professor Trelawney's trunks followed them.

Umbridge was still staring at Dumbledore, who continued to smile.

"And what," she said in a whisper that could be heard throughout the hall, "Are you going to do with her once I appoint a new Divination teacher who needs her lodgings?"

"Oh, that won't be a problem," Dumbledore replied pleasantly. "You see, I have already found us a new Divination teacher, and he will prefer lodgings on the ground floor."

"You've found—" Umbridge asked shrilly. " _You've_ found? Must I remind you that under Education Decree Twenty-two—"

"—the Ministry has the right to appoint a suitable candidate if—and only if—the headmaster fails to produce one. Which, I am happy to say, I have. May I introduce you?"

He turned to face the open front doors, through which night mist was now drifting. There was the sound of hooves. Then, through the mist came the body of a horse—followed by a man's torso.

"This is Firenze," Dumbledore said happily to a thunderstruck Umbridge. "I think you'll find him suitable."

* * *

 **TTFN**


	117. Part 7: Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Two: The Snitch, The Spy**

The Gryffindors all looked forward to their first lesson with Firenze. Lavender and Parvati, who had been crying when Trelawney was sacked, were now eagerly anticipating their next class at breakfast.

"I thought you two were all upset that Trelawney had gone?" Dean asked in confusion.

"We are!" Lavender assured him. "We went up to her office to see her, we took her some daffodils—not the honking ones that Sprout's got, nice ones…"

"How is she?" Neville questioned her.

"Not very good, poor thing," Lavender replied sympathetically. "She was crying and saying she'd rather leave the castle forever than stay here if Umbridge is still here, and I don't blame her. Umbridge was horrible to her, wasn't she?"

Angelina, who had heard the last bit of their conversation, chimed in, "And I've got a feeling Umbridge has only just started being horrible."

"Impossible," Ron scoffed, tucking into a large plate of eggs and bacon. "She can't get any worse than she's been already."

"No," Dean retorted. "Angelina's right. Umbridge'll certainly be in a foul mood—after Dumbledore appointed Firenze without her knowledge."

"And another part-human, too," Neville agreed. "Did you see her face when she saw Firenze?"

Ron shrugged nonchalantly and stuffed his mouth. Angelina leveled him a stare of disgust before deeming him too unscrupulous for attention and turned back to converse with Alicia Spinnet.

After breakfast the Gryffindor fifth years left together for Divination.

"Aren't we going up to North Tower?" Ron asked, looking puzzled, as Parvati bypassed the marble staircase.

Parvati looked scornfully over her shoulder.

"How d'you expect Firenze to climb that ladder?" Dean snorted with derision. "We're in classroom eleven now, it was on the notice board yesterday."

Classroom elven was on the ground floor, in the corridor leading off the Entrance Hall on the opposite side of the Great Hall. It was known to be one of the classrooms that were never used regularly, and that it therefore had the slightly neglected feeling of a cupboard or storeroom. When they entered it, however, they found themselves standing in the middle of a forest clearing.

"What the—?"

The classroom floor had become springily mossy and trees were growing out of it; their leafy branches fanned across the ceiling and windows, so that the room was full of slanting shafts of soft, dappled, green light. The students who had already arrived were sitting on the earthy floor with their backs resting against tree trunks or boulders, arms wrapped around their knees or folded tightly across their chests, looking rather nervous. In the middle of the room, where there were no trees, stood Firenze.

When the door was finally closed and the last student had sat down on a tree stump beside the wastepaper basket Firenze gestured around the room.

"Professor Dumbledore has kindly arranged this classroom for us," he said, when everyone had settled down, "in imitation of my natural habitat. I would have preferred to teach you in the Forbidden Forest, which was—until Monday—my home…but this is not possible."

"Please—er—sir—" Parvati said breathlessly, raising her hand, "why not? We've been in there with Hagrid, we're not frightened!"

"It is not a question of your bravery," Firenze replied, "but of my position. I can no longer return to the forest. My herd has banished me."

"Herd?" Lavender asked, confused. "What—oh!" Comprehension dawned on her face. "There are _more of you_?" she asked, stunned.

"Did Hagrid breed you, like the thestrals?" Dean asked eagerly.

Firenze turned his head very slowly to face Dean, who had realized how offensive that had sounded.

"I didn't—I meant—sorry," he finished in a hushed voice.

"Centaurs are not playthings of humans," Firenze responded quietly. There was a pause, then Parvati raised her hand again.

"Please, sir…why have the other centaurs banished you?"

"Because I agreed to work for Dumbledore," Firenze told them. "They see this as a betrayal of our kind."

"Let us begin," Firenze said after a pause. He swished his long palomino tail, raised his hand toward the leafy canopy above then lowered it slowly, and as he did so, the light in the room dimmed, so that they now seemed to be sitting in a forest clearing by twilight, and stars emerged upon the ceiling. There were _oohs_ and gasps and Ron said audibly, "Blimey!"

"Lie back on the floor," Firenze instructed in his calm voice, "and observe th heavens. Here it is written, for those who can see, th fortune of our races."

The students stretched out on their backs and gazed upward. A twinkling red star winked from overhead.

"I know that you have learned the names of the planets and their moons in Astronomy," said Firenze's calm voice, "and that you have mapped the stars' progress through the heavens. Centaurs have unraveled the mysteries of these movements over centuries. Our findings teach us that the future may be glimpsed in the sky above us…"

"Professor Trelawney taught us about Astrology!" Parvati exclaimed excitedly, raising her hand out in front of her so that it stuck up in the air as she lay on her back. "Mars causes accidents and burns and things like that, and when it makes an angle to Saturn, like now:-she drew a right angle in the air above her—"that means that people need to be extra careful when handling hot things—"

"That," Firenze stated calmly, "is human nonsense."

Parvati's hand fell limply to her side.

"Trivial hurts, tiny human accidents," Firenze said as his hooves thudded over the mossy floor. "These are no more significant than ants scurrying to the wide universe, and are unaffected by planetary movements."

"Professor Trelawney—" Parvati began in a hurt and indignant voice.

"—is a human," Firenze interrupted simply. "And is therefore blinkered and fettered by the limitations of your kind."

Several people were offended at that.

"Sybill Trelawney may have Seen, I do not know," Firenze continued, and his tail swished again as he walked up and down before them, "but she wastes her time, in the main, on the self-flattering nonsense humans call fortune-telling. I, however, am here to explain the wisdom of centaurs, which is impersonal and impartial. We watch the skies for the great tides of evil or change that are sometimes marked there. It may take ten years to be sure of what we are seeing."

Firenze pointed to the red star to Dean's right.

"In the past decade, the indications have been that Wizard-king is living through nothing more than a brief calm between two wars. Mars, bringer of battle, shines brightly above us, suggesting that the fight must break out again soon. How soon, centaurs may attempt to divine by the burning of certain herbs and leaves, by the observation of fume and flame…"

It was the most unusual lesson any of them had ever attended. The did indeed burn sage and mallowsweet there on the classroom floor, and Firenze told them to look for certain shapes and symbols in the pungent fumes, but he seemed perfectly unconcerned that not one of them could see any of the signs he described, telling them that humans were hardly ever good at this, that it took centaurs years and years to become competent, and finished by telling them that it was foolish to put too much faith in such things anyway, because even centaurs read them wrongly. He was nothing like any human teacher Dean had ever had. His priority did not seem to be to teach them what he knew, but rather to impress upon them that nothing, not even centaurs' knowledge, was foolproof.

"He's not very definite on anything, is he?" Ron asked Seamus in a low voice, as they put out their mallowsweet fire. "I mean, I could do with a few more details about this war we're about to have, couldn't you?"

The bell rang righto outside the classroom door and everyone jumped; most had completely forgotten they were still inside the castle, quite convinced that they were really in the forest. The class filed out, looking slightly perplexed. Ron and Seamus were on the pint of following them when Firenze called, "Ron Weasley."

Ron turned. The centaur advanced a little toward him. Seamus hesitated.

"You may stay," Firenze told him. "But close the door, please."

Seamus hastened to obey.

"Ron Weasley, you are a friend of Hagrid's, are you not?" the centaur questioned.

"Yes," Ron replied.

"Then give him a warning from me. His attempt is not working. He would so better to abandon it."

"His attempt is not working?" Ron repeated blankly.

"And he would do better to abandon it," Firenze finished, nodding. "I would warn Hagrid myself, but I am banished—it would be unwise for me to go too near the forest now—Hagrid has enough troubles without a centaurs' battle."

"But—what's Hagrid attempting to do?" Ron asked weakly.

Firenze looked at him impassively.

"Hagrid has recently rendered me a great service, and he has long since earned my respect for the care he shows all living creatures. I shall not betray his secret. But he must be brought to his senses. The attempt is not working. Tell him, Ron Weasley. Good day to you."

Ron had trouble catching Hagrid at a time where he could relay Firenze's message. Umbridge was now always present in every single lesson. As a dull March blurred into a blustery April, Ron finally managed it by pretending he had lost his copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ and doubling back with Seamus after class one day. When he passed on the message, Hagrid gazed at him for a moment through his puffy, blackened eyes, apparently taken back. Then he seemed to pull himself together.

"Nice bloke, Firenze," he said gruffly, "but he don' know what he's talkin' abou' on this. The attemp's comin' on fine."

"Hagrid, what're you up to?" Ron asked curiously. "If Umbridge finds out you're doing something you shouldn't—"

"There's things more importan' than keepin' a job," Hagrid replied, though his hands shook slightly as he said this and a basin full of knarl droppings crashed to the floor. "Don' worry abou' me, Ron, jus' get along now, there's a good lad…"

Ron had no choice but to leave Hagrid mopping up the dung all over his floor. He trudged his way back to the castle, pulling the collar of his shirt up so that his ears weren't rubbed raw by the ever persistent wind. When he made it into the castle, he rubbed his hands together, attempting to warm them up.

What he saw when he paused there was Harish Blake looking this way and that as he crossed the Entrance Hall and started down the steps of the dungeons. The twins were with him and, after he had looked around, they began to converse too quietly to hear. Ron could not help but notice how shady the Death Eater want-to-be was acting. Dinner was already going on, so it was unusual for anyone to leave so early.

"What do you think they were talking about?" Ron asked Seamus, already directing his feet toward the dungeons.

Seamus sighed and rubbed his face.

"I don't know," he replied. "But—come on, Ron. Spying? I don't think that's necessary."

"You can go if you want," Ron said. "But I want to know what they're talking about."

Seamus nodded his thanks and walked off towards the Great Hall. Ron stayed still for a moment, surprised. He had not expected his friend to turn down an adventure. Then, Ron's curiosity got the better of him and he hurried to go down the steps to the dungeons.

Harish and the twins were a great deal ahead of him, but the staircase was long enough that Ron could still see them. He sped up, trying his best to remain as quiet as possible.

Then, Ron panicked. How was he supposed to get into the Slytherin common room unrecognized? Thinking past, he took off his Gryffindor badge and stowed it in his pocket. Then, he pulled his Chudley Cannons hat out of his bag and pulled it on his head, almost to his eyes. By the time he had finished that, he was only directly behind his brothers.

He stopped short as Harish halted the twins, and slipped through a tapestry that was along the side of the staircase. Ron hastened to follow them. They walked down another staircase, this one narrower, and went through another tapestry doorway.

They went to the end of that corridor, and turned into another one that ended in a blank wall. Harish walked straight up to the wall and muttered, "Aconite."

The wall slid down into the ground and allowed the four boys passage. Luckily, as dinner had only just started, the common room was empty except for the four of them. Careful to stay behind them where they couldn't see him, Ron dove behind a couch and listened as the three of them raised their voices loud enough to hear.

"Still," Fred groaned. "I don't understand why we have to leave dinner quite so early."

"Yeah," George agreed. "I only just managed to get all my food down when you took us out."

"And I didn't even get a chance to grab seconds!" Fred wailed.

"We are the leaders of the DA," Harish replied with a groan. "That means we have to get there first."

"But it starts at seven!" both twins protested.

"And the Room of Requirement is situated on the seventh floor," Harish retorted, "and might I add we are three levels below ground floor? I just wanted to drop off my things before we head over there."

There was a thud as Harish most likely deposited his bookbag in a chair.

"Happy now?" Harish asked.

"Not until I get my seconds," Fred grumbled.

They continued bickering, their voices growing fainter until they disappeared altogether as the entrance to the common room closed again. Ron waited a few seconds, reveling in what he had just found out. Blake _was_ leading a secret organization, and they had a meeting that night at seven on the seventh floor!

Ron hopped up and left the common room with a mission; he needed to tell someone about the army they were inevitably building.

They had finally started work on Patronuses in the DA meetings, which everyone had been very keen to practice, though as Harish kept reminding them, producing a Patronus in the middle of a brightly lit classroom when they were not under any threat was very different to producing it when confronted by something like a dementor.

"Oh, don't be such a killjoy," Alicia Spinnet said brightly. "They're so pretty!"

"They are not supposed to be pretty, they are supposed to protect you," Harish informed her impatiently. "What we really need is a boggart or something; that's how I taught myself, I tried to conjure a Patronus while the boggart was pretending to be a dementor—"

"Blimey, Harish," Dean remarked. "I didn't know you taught _yourself_."

"Yes, I did," Harish replied. "Now, try again."

Neville, Harish noted, was having trouble with the charm. His face was screwed up in concentration, but only feeble wisps of silver smoke issued from the tip of his wand.

"You need to think of something happy," Harish reminded the room.

"I'm trying," Neville said miserably, who was trying so hard his round face was actually shining with sweat.

Meanwhile Hermione's Patronus, a silver otter, was gamboling around her.

"They _are_ sort of nice, aren't they?" she asked fondly.

The door of the Room of Requirement opened and a sandy head peeked in, looking mildly nervous. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

"Seamus?" Dean asked. "What're _you_ doing here?"

Seamus, not looking at anyone, mumbled, "You all best get out of here."

"What?" Dean asked in confusion.

Everyone in the room displayed some sort of confusion or alarm.

"Why?" Harish demanded.

Seamus shuffled his feet.

"Ron—he—well, I told him not to, but—well…Umbridge is coming. She knows about you guys, and she knows how to get in here."

Harish was shocked.

"What're you lot waiting for?" Fred shouted. "RUN!"

People darted for the door, and instantly Harish started shouting, "Wait! Stop!"

He climbed up onto a chair and blew his whistle. Draco, whose hand was on the doorknob, paused.

"We need to go about this in a calm, orderly fashion," Harish panted. "I know it looks bad, but it's only ten to nine. If any of you are caught, you won't be out of bounds. You all need to find a place to go, no more than three at a time, and get there. Preferably not your common rooms—those are too far—and don't run! If you are caught out of breath, it will make you seem suspicious. Now go!"

And Draco pulled Ginny out of the room. They waited a few seconds and Harish let the next group, the Hufflepuffs leave. Then the Gryffindors went, followed by the rest of the Slytherins. Finally it was only Harish, the twins, and Seamus.

Harish sent the twins on ahead to the Owlry.

"I appreciate your warning," Harish said to Seamus before leaving the Room of Requirement.

He walked as fast as possible while seeming as normal as possible, heading for the bathrooms. He could pretend he had been in there the whole time if he could just reach it—

"AAARGH!"

Something caught him around the ankles and he fell flat on his face. Someone behind him was laughing. He rolled over onto his back to see Umbridge walking serenely towards him, smiling widely.

"Stand up, Blake!" she sang happily.

Harish got to his feet, glaring at her. He had never seen Umbridge so happy. She seized his arm in a vicelike grip. Initially, Harish would have cast some spectacular spells and gotten away from there as quick as possible, but he deemed that at this moment it was best to play the innocent.

"You can come with me to headmaster's office, Blake."

They were at the stone gargoyle within minutes. Harish wondered how many of the others had been caught as Umbridge exclaimed, "Fizzing Whizbee!"

The stone gargoyle jumped aside, the wall behind split open, and they ascended the moving stone staircase, They reached the polished door with the griffin knocker, but Umbridge did not bother to knock. Instead, she strode straight inside, still holding Harish tight.

The office was full of people. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, his expression serene, the tips of his long fingers together. McGonagall stood rigidly beside him, her face extremely tense. Cornelius Fudge was rocking backward and forward on his toes beside the fire, apparently torn between being pleased and shocked. Kingsley Shacklebolt and a tough-looking wizard with very short, wiry hair were positioned on either side of the door like guards, and the freckled, bespectacled form of Percy Weasley hovered excitedly beside the wall, a quill and a heavy scroll of parchment in his hands, apparently poised to take notes.

The portraits of old headmasters and mistresses were not shamming sleep that night. All of them were watching what was happening below, alert and serious. As Harish entered, a few flitted into neighboring frames and whispered urgently into their neighbors' ears.

Harish pulled himself free of Umbridge's grasp as the door swung shut behind them. Fudge was glaring at him with a kind of vicious satisfaction upon his face.

"Well," he said. "Well, well, well…"

Harish replied with the most superior look he could muster, sticking his nose innocently in the air and looking at Fudge down it. His heart drummed madly in his chest, but his brain was oddly cool and clear.

"He was heading back to the dungeons," Umbridge said. There was an indecent excitement in her voice, the same callous pleasure she had displayed while watching Trelawney dissolve in misery in the entrance hall. It was almost a shame having such malic wasted on the Minister instead of being put to good use in Voldemort's ranks.

"I expect you know why you're here?" Fudge asked.

"No," Harish replied firmly.

"I beg your pardon?" Fudge asked.

"No," Harish repeated.

"You _don't_ know why you're here?"

"No, I do not."

Fudge looked incredulously from Harish to Umbridge.

"So you have no idea," Fudge confirmed in a voice that was positively sagging with sarcasm, "why Professor Umbridge has brought you to this office? You are not aware that you have broken any school rules?"

"School rules?" Harish parroted. "No."

"Or any Ministry decrees?" Fudge amended angrily.

"Not, that I'm aware of," Harish replied blandly.

His heart was still hammering very fast. It was definitely worth toying with Fudge, watching his blood pressure rise slowly.

"So it's news to you, is it," Fudge said, his voice now thick with anger, "that an illegal student organization has been discovered within this school?"

Harish paused, contemplating his answer.

"No," he responded with.

"What do you mean by that?" Fudge exclaimed, positively quivering.

"I think, Minister," Umbridge interrupted silkily from behind Harish, "we might make better progress if I fetch our informant."

"Yes, yes, I do," Fudge agreed, nodding, and he glanced maliciously at Dumbledore as Umbridge left the room. "There's nothing like a good witness, is there, Dumbledore?"

"Nothing at all, Cornelius," Dumbledore concurred calmly, inclining his head.

There was a wait of several minutes, in which no one looked at each other, then Harish heard the door open behind him. Umbridge moved past him into the room, gripping by the shoulder Ron, who was staring at the ground as though a spot there greatly interested him.

"Come on, son, there's no need to be frightened," Umbridge said softly. Ron's face was still angled at the floor, but he shot her a reproachful look as she continued, "it's quite all right now. You have done the right thing. The Minister is very pleased with you. This is Ron Weasley, Minister," she added, looking up at Fudge. "I'm sure you know his brother."

Harish glanced over at Percy, who was scribbling excitedly, his eyes alight and his chest puffed up in pride.

"Jolly good, jolly good!" Fudge said heartily. "Just like his brother, eh?"

But it seemed that this was the last thing Ron wanted to hear. He had been looking irresolutely into the corner of the room, but at these words he looked absolutely disgusted and shot Percy the dirtiest glare that had ever graced his face.

"Yes," Umbridge agreed. "Now, why don't you tell the Minister—"

Ron shook his head profusely and mumbled, "I can't."

"Oh, very well, _I'll_ tell him," Umbridge snapped. She hitched her sickly smile back onto her face and said, "Well, Minister, Mister Weasley here came to my office shortly after dinner this evening and told me he had something he wanted to tell me. He said that if I proceeded to a secret room on the seventh floor, sometimes known as the Room of Requirement, I would find out something to my advantage. He practically blurted out all the details; that there was going to be a meeting at seven o'clock, hosted by Harish Blake and Weasley's twin brothers."

"Well, now," Fudge said, fixing Ron with a fatherly look. "It was very noble of you, son, coming to tell Professor Umbridge, you did exactly the right thing. Now, will you tell me what happened at this meeting? What was its purpose? Who else was there?"

"I don't know," Ron mumbled. "They didn't say."

"Perhaps I could be of some help," Harish said finally. He reached into his robes and the others started forward, thinking he was grabbing his wand, but halted at the sight of a folded slip of parchment resting between his fingers.

"What is that?" Fudge asked with a mixture of impatience and curiousity.

"A permit," Harish replied, unfolding it. "Shall I read it to you?" He cleared his throat before reading aloud, " _'Harish Blake has been permitted to start a study group, purposed for passing OWL and NEWT exams, by the Wizarding Examinations Authority.'_ And there are a bunch of signatures."

He showed the signatures of to the others in the room.

"See?" he asked. "As I was trying to tell you before, I have not been doing anything wrong."

Umbridge looked very sour, glaring holes through Harish's slip of parchment. Beyond her, Fudge seemed to be on the point of boiling with anger. His gaze flickered from Harish to Dumbledore, whose face was completely impassive, though there was a glimmer of annoyance in his eyes.

"May I go now?" Harish asked politely.

"Tell him he can't continue, Dumbledore!" Fudge finally blurted out. "I may not be able to overrule the WEA, but certainly the headmaster…"

Dumbledore bowed his head.

"Mr. Blake," he said. "You are allowed to leave this office without punishment on one condition: you can no longer hold sessions with your study group."

"Yes, professor," Harish hissed through gritted teeth.

And with that, he left the office without a glance back.

* * *

 **TTFN**


	118. Part 7: Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Three: Revenge the Marauder's Way**

The next day members of the DA came up to Harish for information; they wanted to know what had happened in the office, whether they were still going to have meetings, and what sort of punishment he received. They were all surprised when Harish told them he had received none, but he had not been. It was slightly annoying what little trust they had in him. Did they think he wanted to be expelled unnecessarily?

Of course at that point Harish would not have argued against expulsion. Without the DA, he no longer had anything at Hogwarts worth staying for. Slowly Umbridge had stolen what he enjoyed most: Quidditch, heading the DA, and any sort of freedom. The twins too were revolted by the sudden turn of events.

So they decided to take action.

Harish and the twins found Hermione, Daphne, and Ginny standing by the hourglasses that recorded house points. All three girls were gazing at emeralds in their hourglass with disgust.

"Noticed, have you?" Fred asked, sauntering up to Hermione.

"Some Ravenclaw girl just docked us a bunch of points," Daphne explained.

"Yeah, Montague tried to do us during break," George informed them.

"But he's in _our_ house!" Hermione protested.

"He was one of the ones that never accepted the twins for their bloodtraitor status," Harish shrugged.

"What did you mean, 'tried'?" Ginny asked warily.

"He never managed to get the words out," Fred answered, "due to the fact that we forced him headfirst into that Vanishing Cabinet on the first floor."

Hermione looked very shocked.

"But you'll get into terrible trouble!"

"Not until Montague reappears, and tha could takes weeks, I dunno where we sent him," Fred said coolly. "Anyway…we've decided we don't care about getting into trouble anymore."

"Have you ever?" Hermione asked.

"'Course we have," George dissented. "Never been expelled, have we?"

"We've always known where to draw the line," Fred said.

"I always helped with that," Harish interrupted.

"We might have put a toe across it occasionally," George continued, as though Harish had not said a thing.

"But we've always stopped short of causing real mayhem," Fred finished.

"But now?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Well, now—" George replied.

"—what with no more DA—" Fred interrupted.

"—we reckon a bit of mayhem—"

"—is exactly what the school needs."

"Namely Dumbledore and a certain Ministry official," Harish expanded with a smirk.

"You mustn't!" Hermione whispered. "You really mustn't! They all would love a reason to expel you! Harish especially!"

"You don't get it, Hermione, do you?" Fred asked with a smile. "We don't care about staying anymore. We'd walk out right now if we weren't determined to have our revenge on Umbridge. So anyway," he checked his watch, "phase one is about to begin. I'd get in the Great Hall for lunch if I were you, that way the teachers will see you can't have had anything to do with it."

"Anything to do with what?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"You'll see," George retorted. "Run along now."

And the three seventh years squeezed into the crowd. They made their way into a corridor and dove into an alcove that was hidden by a hanging tapestry. There, the twins had stored a large wooden crate. Harish levitated it out into the reasonably empty corridor and they dumped its contents out on the floors. Then, with a flourish of his wand, all of the ignitions were lit.

The three boys plugged their ears and dove into the alcove. Seconds later, the entire floor shook in an ear-splitting _BOOM_!

There were screams and some fireworks made their way out of the corridor, zooming in every direction. The others shot around the corridor and ricocheted off the walls. Harish pulled the tapestry to the side far enough to get a good look.

Dragons comprised of green-and-gold sparks were soaring up and down the corridors, emitting loud fiery blasts and bangs as they went. Shocking-pink Catherine wheels five feet in diameter were whizzing lethally through the air like so many flying saucers. Rockets with long tails of brilliant silver stars were ricocheting off the walls. Sparklers were writing swearwords and insults in midair of their own accord. Firecrackers were exploding like mines all up and down the corridor, and instead of burning out the pyrotechnical miracles gained energy the longer they flew.

Harish almost dropped the tapestry for racking sobs of laughter at the sight of Umbridge and Filch standing transfixed in horror on the stairs. One of the Catherine wheels seemed to decide that what it needed was more room to maneuver; it whirled up toward Umbridge and Filch with a sinister _wheeeeeeeeeee._ Both adults yelled with fright and ducked as it soared over their heads, straight out the window behind them, and over the grounds. Meanwhile, several of the dragons and a large purple bat took advantage of an open door at the end of the corridor to escape toward the second floor.

Umbridge shrieked in fright and ran up into her office, where she stayed. Moments later, Dumbledore came flying into the Entrance Hall where the fireworks ran rampant. He whipped out his wand and waved it about. Instead of disappearing, the fireworks all multiplied by ten. Harish and the twins were near suffocation from their laughter.

"Oh, I hope he tries Stunning them next," George laughed, wiping tears out of his eyes. "They explode with enough force to blast through the wall!"

The fireworks continued to burn and spread all over the school that afternoon. All teachers were baffled with how to get rid of them. Any spell one could think of that would do the trick, Harish had thought of as well and had gotten the twins to protect the fireworks against it. The fireworks they used were a special batch—designed precisely to drive Dumbledore to frustration, and it worked. He was running all over the school, getting rid of them…After he had finally found a spell well past one o'clock.

The three young men were idols that night in the Slytherin common room. Many curious aspirers asked how the fireworks were made, to which George would reply, "Our little secret, my friend," with a shake of his head. Even Hermione fought her way through the excited crowd to congratulate them.

"They were wonderful fireworks," she said admiringly.

"Thanks," Fred replied, looking both bewildered and pleased. A deep red flush creeped up his neck.

"Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz Bangs," George informed her. "Lucky Harish had us make a whole new set for this purpose, or we would be out."

"I caught them planning to use up everything we had made so far," Harish said with a shake of his head.

"But it would have been worth it," Fred dissented.

Hermione returned to where Daphne and Draco were sitting. Daphne was reluctantly pulling out her schoolwork while Draco stared at his bag, as if wishing for his work to spring out and start doing itself.

"Oh, why don't we have night off?" Hermione asked brightly as a Catherine wheel was heard out in the corridor outside. "After all, the Easter holidays start on Friday, we'll have plenty of time then…"

"Are you feeling alright?" Draco asked skeptically with a pale eyebrow raised.

"Now, that you mention it," Hermione replied happily, "I think I'm feeling a bit… _rebellious_."

* * *

 **TTFN**


	119. Part 7: Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Four: The Grand Exit**

Lately, it was a rare occasion those days to see Harish in the library—even rarer for the twins to be there as well—but that was where they could be found. They had just received a letter informing them that the joke shop was ready for business. At that, they left the common room and found a quiet place to plan—the library.

Hermione, Draco, and Daphne sat at a table nearby. The fifth years were studying for their OWL's, and Hermione had even made three calendars that were color-coded according to subject. Ginny joined them after nearly half-an-hour.

"This just arrived," she said, placing a parcel in the center of the table. "It just got through Umbridge's screening process…"

It had clearly been unwrapped and carelessly rewrapped, and there was a scribbled note across it in red ink, reading INSPECTED AND PASSED BY THE HOGWARTS HIGH INQUIOSITOR.

"It's Easter eggs from Mum," she continued. "I've got one for each of you."

She handed them each handsome chocolate eggs, and Harish did not fail to notice that Draco's was smaller than the rest. It seemed the small fact did not escape Draco attention either, but he accepted it without a word. Instead, he unwrapped it slowly and took a bite.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?"

Everyone except Draco and Ginny quickly shoved their eggs in their pockets, bags, or (in Fred's case) inside the nearest book.

"Oh damn," Ginny whispered, jumping to her feet. "I forgot—"

Madam Pince was swooping down on them, her shriveled face contorted with rage.

" _Chocolate in the library!_ " she screamed. "Out— _out_ —OUT!"

And Draco covered his face and ran after Ginny she caused his books, bag, and ink bottle to whack them over the head repeatedly.

As the days progressed, the entire castle was busier than ever. The fifth years were preparing for their OWL's and receiving career advice, the seventh years were preparing for their NEWT's and were attending career fairs, and everyone else were preparing for their end-of-the-year exams. Even Harish and the twins were busy, though they were planning an escape and had abandoned any school work.

Harish, of course, wanted to inform Sirius of what was going on, but there was no way of talking to him—not since Umbridge had almost caught him in the fire in the Slytherin common room. To this, the twins had responded:

"We reckon we found a way to let you talk to Sirius," Fred said, walking up to Harish as he sat in between Daphne and Hermione.

"What?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Oh, I just wanted to inform him—"

"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione interrupted Harish. "With Umbridge groping in fires and frisking owls?"

"Well we found a way around that," George replied, stretching with a smile. "It's a simple matter of causing a diversion—"

"Now," Fred said. "You might have noticed that we have been rather quiet on the mayhem front during the holidays?"

"What was the point, we asked ourselves, in interrupting leisure time?" George continued. "No point at all, we answered ourselves. And of course, we'd have messed with people's studying too—"

"Which would be the last thing we'd want to do."

Fred gave Hermione a sanctimonious nod, who looked taken aback by his thoughtfulness.

"But it's business as usual from tomorrow," Fred continued briskly. "And if we are going to cause a bit of an uproar, why not do it so Harish can talk to Sirius? We'd be shooting two pixies with one stone."

"Yes, but _still_ ," Hermione said with the air of explaining something very simple to a child, "even if you _do_ cause a diversion, how is Harish supposed to use the floo network?"

"Umbridge's office," Harish replied quietly.

Daphne, who had been listening to their conversation, looked very worried at that.

"Are you _insane?_ " she asked.

"I don't think so," Harish replied with a shrug.

"And how are you going to get in there in the first place?" Hermione asked.

"Sirius's knife," he replied.

"Excuse me?"

"Christmas before last Sirius gave me a knife that will open any lock," Harish explained. "So even if she's bewitched the door to where _Alohamora_ will not work, which she most likely has—"

"Fine, fine," Hermione huffed. "If you want to be caught and have who-knows-what done to you, be my guest."

"Believe me," Harish said lowly, "I will not get caught."

The next morning, he woke early, feeling excited. After lying in bed for a few minutes, thinking about the day ahead, Harish got up and silently dressed before moving out of the dormitory to sit by the fire. Once the twins were up, the three went down to breakfast together.

It was very difficult to concentrate on any class. It did not help that, being a Monday, they had Transfiguration, which was one of the few classes that required all attention. Finally classes ended and the trio went their separate ways; the twins went towards Gregory the Swarmy's corridor to prepare for their diversion and Harish went down to the dormitories to grab his cloak and Sirius's knife.

Then, the young man put on the cloak and headed straight for Umbridge's office. Screams and yells reverberated overhead and people were exiting classrooms all around Harish were stopping in their tracks and looking up at the ceiling. As he mounted the long staircase, Umbridge came pelting out of her classroom as fast as her short legs would carry her. Pulling out her wand, she hurried off in the opposite direction.

Harish inserted the blade of the magical knife into the keyhole and moved it gently around, then withdrew it. There was a tiny _click_ , and the door swung open. He ducked inside the office, closed the door behind him, and looked around.

It was empty: nothing was moving except the horrible kittens on the plates continuing to frolic on the wall above three broomsticks, which were chained and padlocked to the wall. Harish paused and stared at them, realizing with a jolt that they belonged to him and the twins.

Harish pulled off the Cloak and, striding over to the fireplace, found a small box containing glittering Floo powder. He crouched down in front of the empty grate, stuck his head into the fireplace, and threw a pinch of powder onto the logs below him. At once, they exploded into emerald-green flames.

"Slytherin Manor!" Harish said clearly, closing his eyes as the fireplace spun around him.

He opened them again at the sound of a surprised voice.

"Harry!"

It was Sirius, leaping off of a couch in the sitting room. He dropped the copy of the _Prophet_ he had been reading and slid onto the floor in front of the green flames.

"Is my father around?" Harish asked.

"He's in a meeting," Sirius replied. "I don't understand. Why have you come? Isn't Umbridge monitoring the floo system?"

"Umbridge has no idea I'm talking to you."

"You're sure?"

"Oh, I am sure," Harish said with a smile. "I'm flooing from _her_ office. The twins are making a diversion up on the floor above—I expect I won't have much longer—" Sirius let out a bark of laughter. "Anyway, I wanted you to know that after today, the three of us will no longer be at Hogwarts. We have premises in Diagon Alley for the joke shop and are intending to have it ready by summer."

"You're leaving school?" Sirius asked incredulously.

Harish nodded.

"And I would appreciate it if you don't tell my father for now unless he asks you directly."

Sirius nodded sincerely.

"Thanks," Harish replied before pulling his head out of the fire.

The young man donned the cloak again and ran from the room. Once he had reached the landing below Umbridge's office, the dark haired teen deemed it safe to pull the cloak off again. Hearing a great deal of shouting coming from the Entrance Hall, Harish made his way down the rest of the marble staircase to find most of the school assembled there.

It was just like the night when Trelawney had been sacked. Students were standing all around the walls in a great ring (and some of them were covered in a substance that resembled Stinksap greatly); teachers and ghosts were also in the crowd. Prominent in the crowd were two figures; Dumbledore, tall and thin, and Umbridge, short and squat. Both were facing opposite of Harish. In the center of it all were Fred and George, who had the unmistakable look of two people who had just been cornered.

Harish joined the crowd at the foot of the stairs and edged through the circle to where he could see Dumbledore and Umbridge better. Dumbledore's eyes were no longer twinkling. He seemed to tower over the twins. On the other hand, Umbridge looked flustered and annoyed. She had her wand out and pointed at them.

"So!" she said triumphantly. "So…you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?"

"Pretty amusing, yeah," Fred said, not seeming to be the least bit frightened of either of them.

"Do you understand what this means?" Dumbledore asked. "I am no longer willing to tolerate your behavior. You will have to be punished."

Harish finally pushed his way through the crowd and joined the twins.

"Great, you're here," George said.

Harish turned to address the school.

"They will not be punished," he said. "I rather feel we have outgrown full-time education."

Whispers rippled throughout the crowd. Umbridge looked furious.

"Ready, Fred?" Harish asked, turning to Fred. "Ready, George?"

Both redheads nodded and the three of them raised their wands together and cried, " _Accio Brooms!_ "

There was a loud crash in the distance. A group of students were forced to duck as the three broomsticks, one still trailing the heavy chain and iron peg Umbridge has used to fasten them to the wall, hurtled towards their owners. They stopped sharply in front of them, the chain clattering loudly on the flagged stone floor.

"We won't be seeing you," Fred announced, swinging his leg over his broomstick.

"Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch," George added as he and Harish mounted their own brooms.

Harish looked around at the assembled students, and at the silent, watchful crowd.

"If anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three, Diagon Alley—Weasley and Company," he said. "Our new premises!"

"STOP THEM!" Umbridge shrieked, but it was too late.

Fred, George, and Harish kicked off from the floor, shooting fifteen feet into the air, the iron peg swinging dangerously below. Fred looked across the hall at the poltergeist bobbing on his level above the crowd.

"Give her hell from us, Peeves."

Peeves swept his belled hat from his head and sprang to a salute as the three young men wheeled about to tumultuous applause from the students below and sped out the open doors into the glorious sunset.

* * *

 **Almost done! *Rubs hands together vigorously in anticipation* Will be posting part 8 tommorrow**

 **~TTFN**


	120. Part 8: Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter One: The Soon to Be Joke Shop Empire**

It was an overcast, murky summer day in London. Neville Longbottom and his grandmother had just left the apothecary. They were there buying school supplies for the teen. Already, the alley had been changed drastically by Voldemort's return: the Leaky Cauldron was empty for the first time in Neville's memory, several shops had shut down, and no one looked each other in the eye as the passed in the streets.

The colorful, glittering window displays of spell brooks, potion ingredients, and cauldrons were lost to view, hidden by enormous posters of various escaped Death Eaters. The Ministry still did not recognize the Dark Lord's return, passing the escapes off as the work of Sirius Black, but everyone was frightened, just as they were when Black had first escaped from Azkaban.

But at the end of the alley, one shop was unaffected by the gloom. Weasley and Co.'s windows hit the eye like a firework display. Casual passerby were looking back over their shoulders at the windows, and a few rather stunned-looking people had actually come to a halt, transfixed. The left-hand window was dazzlingly full of an assortment of goods that revolved, popped, flashed, bounced, and shrieked; Neville's eyes began watering just looking at it.

Augusta Longbottom sniffed in disdain and folded her arms as Neville walked straight for the door, making it clear she had no intention of following him. With an amused shake of his head, Neville pulled on the door and entered the shop. It was packed with customers; Neville could not get near the shelves. He stared around, looking up at the boxes piled to the ceiling: Here were the Skiving Snackboxes that the twins and Harish had perfected during their last, unfinished year at Hogwarts; Neville noticed that the Nosebleed Nougat was most popular, with only one battered box let on the shelf. There were bins full of trick wands, the cheapest merely turning into rubber chickens or pairs of briefs when waved, the most expensive beating the unwary user around the head and neck, and boxes of quills, which came in Self-Inking, Spell-Checking, and Smart-Answer varieties. A space cleared in the crowd, and Neville pushed his way toward the counter, where a gaggle of delighted ten-year-olds were watching a tiny little wooden man slowly ascending the steps to a real set of gallows, both perched on a box that read: REUSABLE HANGMAN—SPELL IT OR HE'LL SWING!

"Patented Daydream Charms…"

Neville turned to see Hermione, who had managed to squeeze through the crowd to a large display near the counter and was reading the information on the back of a box bearing a highly colored picture of a handsome youth and a swooning girl who were standing on the deck of a pirate ship.

"Hermione!" Neville exclaimed. "How have you been?"

"Good," Hermione replied distractedly. "This here says, 'One simple incantation and you will enter a top quality, highly realistic, thirty-minute daydream, easy to fit into the average school lesson and virtually undetectable (side effects include vacant expression and minor drooling). Not for sale to under-sixteens.' You know," she said, looking up at Neville again, "that really is extraordinary magic!"

"For that, Hermione," a voice said behind them, "you can have one for free."

A beaming Fred stood before them, wearing a set of forest green robes that clashed magnificently with his flaming hair. His wand was tucked behind one ear.

"What's happened to your eye, Hermione?" he asked.

"Your punching telescope," she replied ruefully.

"Oh blimey, I forgot about those," Fred said. "Here—"

He pulled a tub out of his pocket and unscrewed it to reveal a thick yellow paste. As he dipped two fingers into the paste and rubbed it onto Hermione's eye, Neville squeezed back through the crowd. Neville hadn't made it further than ten feet before he found himself shunted into the side of someone a good foot taller than him. Neville looked up to see a pair of pale green eyes blinking down at him.

"Harish!" Neville exclaimed.

Harish was wearing a pair of forest green robes as well and had his hands in his pockets. He looked around angrily to see who had shoved him, but then forgot his anger at the sight of a friendly face.

"Good afternoon, Neville," Harish said. "Come on, I'll give you a tour—almost everyone else has already been by."

He followed Harish to the back of the shop, where he saw a stand of card and rope tricks.

"Muggle magic tricks!" he said, pointing them out. "For nutters like Mr. Weasley, you know, who love Muggle stuff. It's not a big earner, but we do fairly steady business, they're great novelties—Fred's idea…Oh, here's George…"

The redhead shook Neville's hand energetically.

"Giving him the tour? Come, through the back, Neville, that's where we're making the real money— _pocket anything and you'll pay in more than Galleons!_ " he added warningly to a small boy who hastily whipped his hand out of the tub labeled EDIBLE MINISTRY SEALS—THEY'LL MAKE ANYONE SICK!

As George pushed back a curtain beside the Muggle tricks, Fred appeared out of the crowd.

"Do you remember our punching telescopes?" he asked George and Harish as they entered a darker, less crowded room.

"Yeah," both replied.

"Apparently we left them in a box in our old room," he said. "Hermione—she's been staying over with Ginny—got punched in the face by one."

George snickered and Harish shook his head.

"Oh, hey, Neville," Fred said, looking at Neville. "Are you giving him the tour?"

"We _were_ ," Harish said in annoyance. "Anyway, we've just developed this more serious line."

"Funny how it happened…" Fred said.

"You wouldn't believe how many people, even people who work at the Ministry, can't do a decent Shield Charm," Harish continued to explain.

"—Course they didn't have Harish to teach them," George said.

"And we thought Shield Hats were a bit of a laugh, you know, challenge your friend to jinx you while you are wearing it and watch his face when the jinx bounces right off."

"But the Ministry bought five hundred for all its support staff!" Fred exclaimed happily.  
"And we're still getting massive orders!"

"You see," Harish explained quietly. "We decided that we want to at least appear neutral to outsiders, so we will be selling to all three sides of the war: Death Eaters, the Ministry, and the Order!"

"And what they don't know," George said in even softer tones, "is that what we are selling to non-death eaters isn't what they want."

"Are you saying that you're selling them faulty products?" Neville asked incredulously.

"Oh, no," Harish dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "We are simply selling them products that don't last as long."

"Where we sell Shield Cloaks to our allies that last at least a decade," Fred said. "The Ministry receive ones that only last through one or two spells."

"Possibly even five!" George added. "If the spells are the most non-lethal in existence."

"And then we thought we would get more into the whole area of Defense Against the Dark Arts, because it's such a money spinner," Fred said enthusiastically. "This is cool. Look, Instant Darkness Powder, we're importing it from Peru. Handy if you want to make a quick escape."

"And our Decoy Detonators are just walking off the shelves," Harish said, pointing at a number of black horn-type objects that were trying to scuttle out of sight. "You just drop one surreptitiously and it'll run off and make a nice, loud noise out of sight, giving you a diversion if you need one."

A young witch with short blonde hair that was also wearing green robes stuck her head into the back room.

"There's a customer out here looking for a joke cauldron, Misters Weasley and Blake," she said.

"Right you are, Verity," Harish said. "I'm coming."

And the three of them walked out of the backroom. Harish followed Verity off to one side of the shop, Neville left to find his grandmother, and the twins went over to where Ginny and Hermione were standing.

"Haven't you found our special Wonder Witch products, yet?" Fred asked them. "Follow me, ladies…"

Near the window was an array of violently pink products around which a cluster of girls were giggling excitedly. Hermione and Ginny both hung back, looking wary.

"There you go," Fred said proudly. "Best range of love potions you'll find anywhere."

"Do they work?" Ginny asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

"Certainly they work, for up to twenty-four hours depending on the weight of the boy in question—"

"And the attractiveness of the girl," George butted in. "But we're not selling them to our sister," he added becoming stern. "Not when she's doing well enough with a certain boy we know of."

"When did I ever say I _wanted_ one?" Ginny asked. "I'm fine with Draco. What are those?"

She pointed at a number of round balls of fluff in shades of pink and purple, all rolling around the bottom of the cage and emitting high-pitched squeaks.

"Pygmy Puffs," Fred told her. "Miniature Puffskeins."

Ginny stuck a finer into the cage and watched as they all crowded around it. "They're cute!" she exclaimed.

"They're fairly cuddly, yes," George said.

Suddenly Ron emerged from the crowd clutching a colorful box.

"How much does this cost?" he asked.

"Five Galleons," both twins replied.

"How much for me?"

"Five Galleons," they repeated.

"But I'm your brother!"

The two glanced at each other before replying in unison, "Ten Galleons."

"But I haven't got five Galleons!" Ron protested.

"And that's our stuff you're nicking," Fred said.

"If you can't cough up," George said, "You'd better put it back, and mind you put it on the right shelf!"

Ron grumbled and slouch away, disappearing into the crowd again. Just then Mrs. Weasley chose to appear.

"Mum," Ginny said at once. "Can I have a Pygmy Puff?"

"A what?" Mrs. Weasley asked warily.

"Look, they're so sweet…"

"Speaking of Draco," Fred said to Hermione. "Have you seen him around here? Harish was wanting him."

Hermione shook her head.

"No," she replied. "Ginny might be able to tell you better, but I get the impression he would have to escape from his parents before he could come here—the shop being run by Weasleys and all…"

"No, problem," George replied. "Come on, Fred," and the two of them headed for the counter, where they hoped to find Harish.

"They seem to be doing well," Ginny said to Hermione once she had convinced her mother to buy the Pygmy Puff.

"Yes, and I wouldn't have believed it until seeing everything they did to Umbridge last year," Hermione agreed.

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	121. Part 8: Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Two: A Mission**

But it was only a mere matter of minutes before Draco entered the shop, looking around in disbelief. Harish, who had finished helping a customer, made his way over to the sixteen-year-old.

"Harish!" Draco exclaimed at the sight of him. "This is unbelievable!"

"Follow me, will you?" Harish asked.

Draco nodded and Harish took him to the back of the shop, through the curtained doorway, and then pulled out Sirius's knife and unlocked a door on the right wall of the dark back room. On the way there, he pointed out the same merchandise he had shown Neville and Draco listened with mild interest.

Once they were inside the door and it was closed again, Harish said, "That door is locked and charmed against unlocking spells."

"How do Fred and George get in?" Draco asked him.

"They have special charmed keys," Harish replied.

He tapped his wand on the bottom rung on a spiral staircase that was hanging just above his head. The staircase then clanked into motion and landed on the ground. The two young men stepped onto the bottom stair and Harish tapped the railing twice, causing it to rise back up through an opening in the wooden ceiling. A hallway led out from the staircase on the floor above. Directly to their left was a window that overlooked the alley. Harish led Draco over to the window, conjured two chairs, and invited him to sit down.

"Welcome to the Bachelor Flat," Harish said with a wry smile. "Or, at least, that's what the twins have decided to call it."

"What do you want?" Draco asked.

Harish glanced out the window at the gray, bleak alley below before saying, "I need a way into Hogwarts."

"Why?" Draco asked.

Harish thought for a second on how to phrase his thoughts.

"Multiple reasons," he finally replied. "For one, I would like to keep tabs on my Dark Army."

"So DA is going to continue?"

"Yes," Harish replied. "And another reason is that I have reason to believe that another agent like Jugson may be inside the castle."

"Who?"

"No one to concern yourself with," Harish retorted. "I would simply like to investigate it myself sometime this school year."

"But how am I going to get you into Hogwarts?"

Harish spread his hands wide to indicate he knew as much as Draco did.

"That is up to you," the young man said. "I would simply like you to get me into Hogwarts…let's say, by Christmas."

Draco nodded seriously and Harish stood, gesturing toward the staircase. The Slytherin followed his younger companion onto the steps and tapped the railing once more, waiting for the stairs to hit the ground with a bump. Once Draco had left, Harish made the stairs retract one last time before making his way out into the main portion of the shop.

"Yaxley, Malfoy, Macnair, Rookwood," Voldemort called out. Each of the Death Eaters looked at him attentively. "My loyal spies. Tell me, will we ever be able to take over the Ministry?"

"Yes, my lord," Malfoy answered. "We are all trusted by the Minister."

"But you cannot overthrow the Ministry without a plan," Voldemort added.

"No, my lord," Malfoy responded, bowing his head. "You are right."

"Then I propose a plan for you," Voldemort continued. "We have broken into the Ministry once before, and we will do it one last time. The only difference is this time we will overthrow the government without alerting the people of the Wizarding World."

"How will we do that, my lord?"

Voldemort smirked and launched into his plan.

When the meeting was over, Death Eaters began to Disapparate. Finally, only Voldemort, Harish, and the twins remained. The Dark Lord then called the boys to him.

"Yes, father?" Harish asked.

"Firstly, I wish to instruct you more on magic. I expect you to be at the manor every Saturday for extra tutorage." Harish nodded. "Secondly, how is your mission going?"

"To find Jugson?" This time it was Voldemort's turn to nod. "The twins and I have almost got it figured out. We are going to do a ritual to track him down. The only thing is that the ritual is very complex and has to take place on the Winter Solstice."

"But you will find him?"

"Yes, father."

Voldemort leaned back in his chair.

"Say that you do manage to track Jugson down," his father said. "What will you do then?"

"Torture him until we get results, if we have to," Harish shrugged.

A corner of Voldemort's mouth twitched.

"Very well," he said.

* * *

 **~TTFN :)**


	122. Part 8: Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Three: The Disastrous Experiment**

Business at the joke shop was fairly busy. They opened at nine in the morning and closed at six in the evening nearly every day of the week. The only exception to that were Sundays: Because of the little free time every other day of the week, the three young men decided to close shop once a week.

Each Sunday they spent sleeping in, working on how to find Jugson, and experimenting with both joke products and new spells. They would practice spells they hadn't yet mastered, but occasionally one of the spells would go awry and one of the boys would, in turn, discover a new spell.

During one of these instances, Harish, Fred, and George were in their flat above the shop in a spare room, experimenting with different spells. As the three were practicing wand movements, Fred gave his own wand an over-zealous flick. Harish felt something whoosh over him, and then shuddered as his skin felt it was melting.

Once it was gone, Harish opened his eyes to see the blurry forms of the twins staring at him.

"What?" he asked in annoyance.

Instead of answering, the red-heads simply gaped.

"Why is everything blurry?" he questioned again. "What did you _do_?"

Fred stuck his hands in the air as a gesture of surrender and said, "I honestly have no idea—"

"But you might want to take a look at this," George interrupted.

He placed his hands on Harish's shoulders and steered him to their mirror. Harish squinted at it before yelping in surprise and jumping back.

The boy's precious brown hair was gone, replaced by the most horrendous mop of unruly black hair. His skin was no longer pale, but more of a shade of pink. He had lost around a foot of height and at least three pounds of muscle.

Harish then stepped closer—so close, in fact, that his nose almost touched it and streaks of condensation spread out on the mirror's glassy surface from his warm breath. It was then that the wizard discovered that even his face had changed.

His nose was straighter and longer, his face was smaller and thinner, and his eyes were a brilliant emerald green—the exact same color as the Killing Curse. The eyes, of course, had been the first thing the twins had noticed, for they had seen them on several occasions before.

As Harish inspected his new appearance, he was so stunned that he could only barely hear the twins' snickering behind him.

"I expect you'll have a hard time intimidating people now," George said, trying to stifle his laughter.

"Yeah," Fred added. "Now that you'll be a good three feet shorter than them."

"Not to mention the fact that he's a _skinny_ squirt," George added, quieter.

"Fred," Harish said in hardly a whisper, staring into a face he didn't recognize as his own. "I think you just accidently invented a _really_ powerful glamor-removing spell."

For Harish knew that he was looking at the reflection of Harry Potter.

"What are we going to do?" Fred asked.

"It's not like you can go to the next Death Eater meeting looking like _that_ ," George added.

"Yes, you are right," Harish replied. "And there's only one person who can help me."

The three got dressed and went into the study they shared and used the fireplace to floo to Slytherin Manor. There was silence in the manor for just a second, and then Voldemort appeared seconds later. The second he spotted Harish, he jumped, took a step backwards, and asked, "What did you _do_ to yourself?"

Harish was slow to answer. He had never seen his father this shaken before. It was very unusual for the man to show surprise, but in that instant the Dark Lord was not trying to mask his surprise at all—most likely he was so shocked he was unable to.

Without saying anything, Harish quickly pointed at Fred.

"I-I-I might have, uh, accidently…" then he slumped in surrender. "I don't know."

"Tell me exactly what happened," Voldemort demanded.

So Harish quickly regaled the whole story as his father circled him, tilting the boy's head and inspecting his new appearance closely by lifting arms and staring at the boy's face.

"So you created a new glamor-removing spell," Voldemort stated once his son had finished.

"How do we undo it?" Harish asked.

"Make a counter-spell," Voldemort replied simply.

"Could you help us?" Harish asked.

Voldemort sighed.

"I can't exactly let you parade around looking like _that_ can I?" he retorted. "No. I will help you as long as you stay here until you are back to normal."

"However long _that_ takes," Harish grumbled.

"It shouldn't take that long," Voldemort replied sternly. "Know what spell were you trying?"

"I was teaching the twins _rescindo_."

"The knee-reversing charm," Voldemort specified out loud.

"And instead of reversing knees he reversed everything," George said with a snicker.

Voldemort shot him a look and he quickly sobered, snapping to attention.

"We hadn't even started saying the incantation," Harish continued. "We were just practicing wand movements."

"So it's a nonverbal spell," Voldemort concluded. He paused his pacing and thought for a second. Then he said, "What we really need is to watch what happened."

"But we haven't got a pensieve," Harish said.

"I know," Voldemort replied. "We will just have to borrow one."

The Dark Lord explained that Snape possessed a pensieve. So Voldemort sent Harish to his room and the twins back to their flat. Then, he summoned his Death Eater.

"Yes, my lord?" Snape asked.

"I require your pensieve," Voldemort said, wasting no time in getting to the point of their conversation.

Snape nodded without questions and Disapparated.

By the next morning they had the pensieve. Voldemort set it on the table and got Harish to give him the memory of the incident. He then poured the memory into the bowl and the two watched it swirl. Then, they both put their faces in it to see.

There was a lurch and Harish's feet left the ground. The next moment, he found himself standing in the spare room above the shop again. Sunlight flooded through the large window on the exterior wall. Standing in the center of the room were the twins and a Harish that still resembled Voldemort, who was standing at the other Harish's side.

The two wizards watched as the three young men each waved their wands repeatedly. Harish and George moved their wand tips in a half circle, flicking their wrists to the left. Fred, on the other hand, bounced on his toes as he waved his wand in a full, clockwise spiral, ending with a downward flick of the wrist.

The memory ended and Harish said with a shake of his head, "I don't understand how he could've gotten the wand movement so wrong."

"Now, you would do well to remember the importance of wand movements," Voldemort said.

Harish nodded. "And I'm sure Fred understands the importance even more than I do."

"Now did you see exactly what he did?"

"Yes," Harish replied. "He flicked his wrist down in a full, clockwise circle."

"So what sort of wand movement would you use for a counter-charm?" his father asked him.

"Wouldn't we use the exact opposite of the original spell?" Harish queried, receiving a nod. "So that would be a full counter clockwise circle followed by an upward flick of the wrist. Would we use an incantation?"

"I think it would be best," Voldemort replied. "I would probably start with a basic incantation. _Rectum facio_ is a good one for this situation."

Harish nodded.

"We'll try that," he said. "Can I go now?"

"Yes, but before you do, I think you should get glasses for this appearance."

"Why?"

"You said yourself that you could not see."

"But I'll have my sight back when I take on my glamor again," Harish disagreed.

"True," the Dark Lord replied. "But sometimes it can be rather handy to have a disguise readily available for use."

So, Harish found himself sitting in a chair in front of a man sworn to secrecy a few hours later, being put through multiple tests. Most of the tests comprised of the man scribbling on a clipboard while Harish told him what letters on the chart he couldn't read. Next, Harish picked out a pair of plain round frames and the man tapped his wand on each lens. Then, he put them on to discover he could see again.

Finally, he flooed directly to their flat. It was past six, so the twins were sitting in the study, talking about how well the shop was doing. Harish walked in and told them everything he had learned and Fred tried out the spell. He rotated his wand in a full, counter clockwise circle and then Harish found he couldn't see anything through his new glasses. He took them off to discover that his sight had been restored.

Then, he dashed to their spare room and examined his reflection in the mirror—everything was completely back to normal.

The young man laughed joyously and cried, "We could do so much with this spell!"

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	123. Part 8: Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Four: Enter Horace Slughorn**

After their trip to Diagon Alley, the Weasleys returned to the Burrow. Hermione went with them, as she had been staying with Ginny for almost a week. Staying at the Burrow was always fun. Hermione enjoyed being around her friends in the summer, and she had always enjoyed being friends with the spunky Ginny.

The only downside to staying at the Burrow that summer was Ginny's constant complaining. Apparently Fleur Delacour had indeed stayed in Britain to "eemprove 'er Eenglish." More specifically, she had gotten a part time job at Gringotts and met Bill. Over the year they decided to marry, so Fleur was ever-present in the Burrow.

Hermione didn't necessarily care for her, but Ginny and Mrs. Weasley outright despised her. Mrs. Weasley passed it off by saying she simply thought that they rushed into the marriage, but Ginny had no problem with showing her distaste with the woman, going so far as repeatedly insisting that Tonks would be a much better addition to the family.

But finally the summer drew to a close. Hermione found herself packing once more for Hogwarts. She was sad about the upcoming year, for she knew that the castle wouldn't be the same without Harish and the twins.

"No doubt there will be a scramble for power now that Harish is gone," Ginny said.

"Of course, I wouldn't be surprised if Draco comes out on top," Hermione said.

"I don't know," Ginny said. "You are pretty talented and it helps that the entire house is convinced you are a Black."

Hermione sighed.

"I don't want to be on top," she said. "I just want to excel in my studies. And it wouldn't be right, even if they are gone…"

"You'll miss Fred, won't you?" Ginny asked.

"No," Hermione differed, picking up the last pile of dirty clothes that would need cleaning before term started. Then, she paused at the doorway. "Well…Maybe a little."

Ginny smirked and watched Hermione go.

When Hermione entered the kitchen, she found Fleur sitting at the table, in full flow about plans for her wedding to Bill, while Mrs. Weasley kept watch over a pile of self-peeling sprouts, looking bad tempered.

"…Bill and I 'ave almost decided on only two bridesmaids, Ginny and Gabrielle will look very sweet togezzer. I am theenking of dressing zem in pale gold—pink would of course be 'orrible with Ginny's 'air—"

"Ah, Hermione!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed loudly, cutting across Fleur's monologue. "Good, just give those clothes to me."

She took them from Hermione and set them in a basket nearby.

"Now, you'd better get on, Hermione," Mrs. Weasley said. "I want the trunks ready tonight, if possible, so we don't have the usual last minute scramble."

And in fact, their departure the next morning was much smoother than usual. They woke up th next morning to find the trunks packed; Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, safely enclosed in his traveling basket; and Ginny's new purple Pygmy Puff, Arnold, in his cage.

"Au revior!" Fleur called as they all loaded into Mr. Weasley's car.

They arrived at King's Cross with plenty of time left over and Hermione and Ginny chose a compartment for themselves. Hermione only set her things down before going to the prefects' carriage. Ginny found herself sitting there alone, but in no time she was joined by Luna, Neville, Daphne, and Dean. Soon after that, conversation was going rapidly.

"Do any of you know if we're continuing with DA this year?" Neville asked.

Draco nodded.

"Harish said he wanted us to continue," he replied.

"That's good," Dean said. "I liked DA."

"It was like having friends," Luna agreed.

It was one of those uncomfortable moments when she said something unbearably blunt and truthful.

"We're your friends, Luna!" Neville exclaimed once her statement sunk in.

"That's very kind of you," she said.

Then, Draco jumped up and dashed off—he had forgotten that prefects were supposed to meet in their own carriage.

Talk soon turned to Quidditch after he left. They debated teams for a good ten to twenty minutes, and then fell silent and resorted to looking at the countryside as it sped by. The weather beyond the train windows was rather patchy; they passed through patches of chilling mist, then out into weak, clear sunlight. It was during one of the clear spells, when the sun was visible almost directly overhead, that Hermione and Draco finally entered the compartment.

"Hello, everyone," Hermione said with a smile, sitting beside Ginny. Draco sat across from the redhead.

"Did you see the lunch trolley on you way here?" Ginny asked.

Hermione shook her head.

"But you wouldn't be hungry if you had eaten breakfast," Hermione said.

"It wasn't my fault I slept in," Ginny protested as she stood. "Well, I'm going to go find it."

And with that she left the compartment, slipping by a third year girl who came into the compartment before the door slid shut.

"I'm supposed to deliver this to Neville Longbottom," she said. Perplexed, Neville took a scroll from her and untied the purple ribbon that sealed it as the girl left.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"An invitation," Neville replied.

 _Neville Longbottom,_

 _I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Professor H.E.F. Slughorn_

"Who's Professor Slughorn?" Neville asked, staring down at the invitation. Everyone else shrugged.

"New teacher, I suppose," Hermione replied.

"I guess I have to go," Neville said glumly, standing.

He made his way out of the compartment and sifted through the crowd until he found the right place. There, he saw at once that he was not the only invitee.

"You must be Mr. Longbottom!" Slughorn exclaimed, jumping up at the sight of him so that his great velvet-covered belly seemed to fill all the remaining space in th compartment. As he waddled over, Neville couldn't help but think that the man greatly resembled a walrus, with a blubbery build, shiny bald head, and a great silvery mustache.

At a gesture from Slughorn, he sat in the only remaining seat, which was nearest the door. Neville glanced around at his fellow guests. He recognized a Slytherin from their year, a tall black boy with high cheekbones and long, slanting eyes; there were also two seventh year boys Neville didn't know and, squashed in the corner beside Slughorn and looking as though she was not entirely sure how she had gotten there, Ginny.

"Now, do you know everyone?" he asked Neville. "Blaise Zabini is in your year, of course—"

Zabini did not make any sign of recognition or greeting, nor did Neville; while Neville got along with a few Slytherins, he did not like talking to all of them. Zabini, on the other hand, despised Gryffindors and Muggleborns alike, so he too remained silent.

"This is Cormac McLaggen, perhaps you've come across each other—? No?"

McLaggen, a large, wiry haired youth, raised a hand, and Neville nodded back at him.

"—and this is Marcus Belby, I don't know whether—?"

Belby, who was thin an nervous-looking, gave a strained smile.

"—and _this_ charming young lady tells me she knows you!" Slughorn finished.

Ginny grimaced at Neville from behind Slughorn's back.

"Well now, this is most pleasant," Slughorn said cozily. "A chance to get to know you all a little better. Here, take a napkin. I've packed my own lunch; the trolley, as I remember it, is heavy on licorice wands, and a poor old man's digestive system isn't quite up to such things…Pheasant, Belby?"

Belby started and accepted what looked like half a cold pheasant.

"I was just telling young Marcus here that I had the pleasure of teaching his Uncle Damocles," Slughorn told Neville as they passed around a basket of rolls. "Outstanding wizard, outstanding, and his Order of Merlin most well-deserved. Do you see much of your uncle, Marcus?"

Unfortunately, Belby had just taken a large mouthful of pheasant; in his haste to answer Slughorn he swallowed too fast, turned purple, and began to choke.

" _Anapneo_ ," Slughorn said calmly, pointing his wand at Belby, whose airway seemed to clear at once.

"Not…not much of him, no," Belby said, his eyes streaming.

"Well, of course, I daresay he's busy," Slughorn replied. "I doubt he invented the Wolfsbane Potion without considerable hard work!"

"I suppose…" said Belby, who seemed to be afraid to take another bite of pheasant until he was sure that Slughorn was done with him. "Er…he and my dad don't get on very well, you see, so I don't really know much about…"

His voice trailed away as Slughorn gave him a cold smile and turned to McLaggen instead.

"Now, _you_ , Cormac," he said. "I happen to know you see a lot of your Uncle Tiberius, because he has a rather splendid picture of the two of you hunting nogtails in, I think, Norfolk?"

"Oh, yeah, that was fun, that was," McLaggen agreed. "We went with Bertie Higgs and Rufus Scrimgeour."

"Ah you know Bertie and Rufus?" Slughorn beamed, now offering around a small tray of pies; somehow, Belby was missed out. "Now tell me…"

Neville soon determined that everyone there had been invited because they were connected to someone well-know or influential—everyone except Ginny. Zabini, who was interrogated after McLaggen turned out to have a famously beautiful witch for a mother (from what Neville could make out, she had been married seven times, each of her husbands dying mysteriously and leaving her mounds of gold). It was Neville's turn next: This was not very fun for Neville, for everyone knew the reason why he had been invited there. On top of being the Chosen One, his parents had been well-known Aurors that were tortured into insanity. Neville got the impression that Slughorn was reserving judgement on him to see if he had any potential.

"And now," Slughorn said. "The pretty young lady. Now, tell me, where did you learn to perform that magnificent Bat-Bogey Hex?"

"From my brothers," Ginny replied. "Fred and George."

The afternoon wore on with more anecdotes about illustrious wizards Slughorn had taught, all of whom had been delighted to join what he called the "Slug Club" at Hogwarts. Neville could not wait to leave, but couldn't see how to do so politely. Finally, the train emerged from yet another long misty stretch into a red sunset, and Slughorn looked around, blinking in the twilight.

"Good gracious, it's getting dark already! I didn't notice they'd lit the lamps! You'd better go and change into your robes, all of you. McLaggen, you must drop by and borrow that book on nogtails. Neville, Blaise—any time you're passing. Same goes for you, miss," he twinkled at Ginny. "Well, off you go, off you go!"

As he pushed past Neville, into the darkening corridor, Zabini shot him a filthy look that Neville returned with interest. He and Ginny followed him back along the train.

"I'm glad that's over," Neville said to Ginny. "Strange man, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he is a bit," Ginny agreed. "He saw me hex Ron and I thought I was going to get a detention, but he just thought it was a really good hex and invited me to lunch! Mad, eh?"

The two of them had reached their compartment. Neville opened the door and followed Ginny inside. They resumed their original seats. Suddenly questions came from all around.

"What did he want with you, Neville?"

"Where have you been, Ginny?"

"What did you talk about?"

"He invited almost everyone there because they were related to someone famous," Neville informed there.

"Almost?"

"I got invited because he saw me hex Ron," Ginny replied.

Draco sniggered.

"I think we'd better get our robes on," Hermione said, standing. "Come on Ginny, Luna."

By the time they had returned, everyone had changed and Hogwarts could be seen in the distance. Not five minutes later, the train bumped to a halt. Another year at Hogwarts had begun, and everyone wondered what it would be like without three infamous Slytherins.

* * *

 **TTFN**


	124. Part 8: Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Five: Testing, testing, 1 2 3…**

"Let's see if this works," Harish said, pouring a glop of polyjuice potion into a vial. "Bottom's up."

And with that he downed the contents of the vial in one gulp. The young man gagged as the potion seared down his throat and then waited as an unpleasant feeling came over him. It felt as though dozens of snakes were writhing in his stomach. Then a burning sensation spread rapidly out to his fingers and toes. Next came a horrible melting feeling, like his skin had turned to hot wax and before his very eyes he began to change. He turned and looked in the mirror to watch himself shrink a few inches. His shoulders shot out and his arms shortened. Red freckles popped out onto his pale skin and his green eyes swirled into a blue.

Next thing he knew, he looked just like the twins. He stretched his hands out and looked at them.

"So this is what it feels like to be a twin?" he asked, looking at Fred and George.

"More like how it feels to be a triplet," George replied.

"Okay," Harish said. "Now try the spell."

Fred raised his wand, but George said, "My turn."

He waved his wand in the correct movement and once again Harish felt like his skin was melting, only instead of searing pain like polyjuice potion, it was more like his skin was simply falling off like droplets of water. Once again, he glanced in the mirror to find that he had become himself again.

"So that worked," Fred stated.

"Now the question is," Harish said. "What can we use this spell for?"

As the girls had suspected, there was an instantaneous scrabble for power, with Draco coming out on top. The next morning, Professor Snape went down the Slytherin table, handing out schedules. Out of the three sixth years, Hermione was cleared to go to the most classes. Since they had taken their OWL's, they went to a class depending on whether their OWL's were good enough or not.

Hermione was instantly cleared to continue with Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Potions, and shot off to first period Ancient Runes without further ado. Draco made it to Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, and Potions; and Daphne was cleared for Transfiguration, Arithmancy, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Herbology.

Over at the Gryffindor table, Neville watched Professor McGonagall as she looked through his schedule.

"Herbology fine," she said. "Professor Sprout will be delighted to see you back with an Outstanding OWL. And you qualify for Defense Against the Dark Arts with an Exceeds Expectations. But the problem is Transfiguration. I'm sorry, Longbottom, but an Acceptable really isn't good enough to continue to NEWT level. I just don't think you'd be able to cope with the coursework."

Neville hung his head. Professor McGonagall peered at him through her square spectacles.

"Why do you want to continue with Transfiguration, anyway? I've never had the impression that you particularly enjoyed it."

Neville looked miserable and muttered something about "my grandmother wants."

"Hmph," McGonagall snorted. "It's high time your grandmother learned to be proud of the grandson she's got, rather than the one she thinks she ought to have."

Neville turned very pink and blinked at her; Professor McGonagall hardly ever gave _any_ of her students compliments.

"I'm sorry, Longbottom, but I cannot let you into my NEWT class. I see that you have an Exceeds Expectations in Charms, however—why not try for a NEWT in Charms?"

"My grandmother thinks it's a soft option," Neville mumbled.

"Take Charms," McGonagall said, "and I shall drop Augusta a line reminding her that just because she failed _her_ Charms OWL, the subject is not worthless." Smiling at the look of the incredulity on Neville's face, Professor McGonagall tapped a blank schedule with the tip of her wand and handed it, now carrying details of his new classes, to Neville.

And it turned out that the NEWT level Potions class was so small that they piled students from all four houses into it. Other than the five Slytherins that made it through, four Ravenclaws were there and one Hufflepuff, Ernie MacMillan, who was part of the group that had once thought Harish was behind attacks on the school.

Then, Ron Weasley wandered into the dungeons looking mildly confused as to why he was there.

"What are _you_ doing here, Weasley?" Draco asked as Ron leaned against the wall next to Ernie beside them.

"I received an Exceeds Expectations on my OWL," Ron retorted. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I happened to receive an Outstanding," Draco replied sticking his nose into the air. He opened his mouth to insult the boy further, but the dungeon door opened and Slughorn's belly preceded him through the door. As they filed into the room, his great walrus mustache curved into a smile as he spotted Zabini slinking behind Draco.

Hermione paused at the sight of him and he shot her a sneer. Draco grabbed her arm and pulled her into the dungeon, which was, most unusually, already full of vapors and odd smells. The five Slytherins took a table together, thought Hermione was sure to sit on the other end from Zabini; one of the few Slytherins that did not believe that Hermione was Sirius's daughter. The four Ravenclaws took a table to themselves as well, leaving Ron to sit with Ernie.

"Now then, now then, now then," said Slughorn, whose massive outline was quivering through the many shimmering vapors. "Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don't forget your copies of _Advanced Potion-Making_ …"

"Sir?" Ron asked, raising his hand.

"Yes, m'boy?"

"I haven't got a book or scales or anything—didn't realize I'd be able to do the NEWT, you see—"

Draco snorted.

"Ah, yes, Professor McGonagall did mention… not to worry. You can use ingredients from the store cupboard today, and I'm sure we can lend you some scales, and we've got a small stock of old books here, they'll do until you can write to Flourish and Blotts…"

Slughorn strode over to the cupboard and, after a moment's foraging, emerged with a very battered-looking copy of _Advanced Potion Making_ by Libatius Borage, which he gave to Ron along with a set of tarnished scales.

"Now then," he said once he returned to where he was standing previously, "I've prepared a few potions for you to observe, and just out of interest you know. These are the kind of potions you'll have to be able to complete by the time you've completed your N.E.W.T.'s. You ought to have heard of 'em, even if you can't brew 'em quite yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?"

The professor indicated the potion nearest the Slytherin table. Hermione raised her hand delicately and Slughorn pointed to her.

"It's Veritaserum, a colourless, odourless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth," she said.

"Very good, very good!" Slughorn said happily, "Now," he continued pointing at the one nearest the Ravenclaw table, which was bubbling sluggishly, looking like a cauldron of mud, "this one here is pretty well known…Featured in ministry leaflets lately too… Who can—?"

Hermione's hand was once again the first into the air.

"It's Polyjuice Potion, sir," she blurted out. "Excellent, excellent! Now this one here…Yes, my dear?" Slughorn asked bemusedly, as Hermione's hand broke through the air again.

"It is called Amortentia."

"It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask, but I presume you know what this one is as well?" he asked as Hermione nodded.

"It's the most powerful love-potion in the world."

"Quite right! I guess you recognized it by its mother of pearl sheen?"

"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals," Hermione explained, "and it's supposed to smell differently to each person, according to what attracts us."

"May I ask your name, dear?" Slughorn asked.

"Hermione Granger, sir."

"Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?"

"No, I don't think so, sir. I'm related more to the Blacks."

"Black?" Slughorn asked. "Are you related to Regulus Black?"

"He's my uncle," she replied, and then muttered where only Draco could hear, "more or less…"

"So young Sirius is your father!" Slughorn exclaimed, receiving a nod. "His group's pranks were quite clever. Such a shock when he was incarcerated…"

An awkward silence fell over them.

"Well, Miss Granger, take twenty well-earned points for Slytherin," Slughorn said genially. Then, he continued by saying, "Amortentia doesn't really create _love_ , of course. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room—oh yes," he said, nodding gravely at Draco and Theodore Nott, both of whom were smirking sceptically. "When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love…"

"And not just obsessive love," Hermione muttered quietly to Draco. "If your father ever gets wind of you dating Ginny, it may be the end of you both."

"And now," Slughorn said, "it is time for us to start work."

"Sir, you haven't told us what's in this one," MacMillan said, pointing to a small black cauldron standing on Slughorn's desk. The potion within was splashing about merrily; it was the colour of molten gold, and large drops were leaping like goldfish above the surface, though not a particle had spilled.

"Oho," Slughorn said again. Hermione and Draco shared looks, indicating that they were both sure that Slughorn had not forgotten the potion at all, but had waited to be asked for dramatic effect. "Yes. That. Well, _that_ one, ladies and gentlemen, is a curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it," he turned smiling at Hermione, who had let out an audible gasp, "that you know what it does, Miss Granger?"

"It is liquid luck," Hermione exclaimed excitedly, "It makes you lucky!"

The whole class seemed to sit up straighter. Draco, in particular, looked interested. He had told Hermione about his mission he had received from Harish, so she knew that was the reason he wanted some.

"Quite right, take another ten points for Slytherin. Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis. Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find, that all of your endeavours succeed… at least until the effects wear off."

"Why don't people drink it all the time sir?" Terry Boot asked eagerly.

"Because if taken in excess it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence." Slughorn said. "Too much of a good thing... you know…highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly and very occasionally…"

"Have you taken it sir?" asked another Ravenclaw, Michael Corner.

"Twice in my life," Slughorn replied, "Once when I was about twenty and the second when I was about fifty-seven. Two tablespoons taken with breakfast. Two perfect days… And that is what I will be offering as a reward at the end of this lesson."

The room fell silent.

"One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis," said Slughorn, taking a miniscule glass bottle with a cork and showing it to them all. "Enough for twelve hours' luck. From dawn until dusk, you will be very lucky in everything you attempt. Now I must warn you that this potion is restricted from most sports, examinations, or elections. So the winner is to use it on an ordinary day…And watch it become extraordinary!"

"So," Slughorn added with a good bit of gusto, clapping his hands together, "I'm sure you're wondering how you're to win my prize? Well, by turning to page ten of _Advanced Potion Making_. We have a little over an hour left to us, which should be plenty of time for you to make a decent attempt at the Draught of Living Death. I know it is more complex than anything you have attempted before, and I do not expect a perfect potion from anybody. The person who does best, however, will be the winner of little Felix here. Off you go!"

There was a scramble in the previously still classroom as people grabbed the cauldrons and scales, though nobody spoke. Everyone was concentrating hard on their books. Draco rifled through his book feverishly and then glanced around the classroom. Some Ravenclaws were getting their ingredients together, but behind them Ron was staring at his textbook with disgust.

Draco bent back over his book and read out th instructions quickly. As he cut his valerian roots as fast as he could, he glanced over at Hermione, who was already adding her ingredients and stirring nervously. The fumes of her potion were beginning to make her hair frizz. Draco scowled at the fact that she was ahead of him, scooped up his roots, and tipped them into his cauldron.

Of course, the blonde young man was not the only one glancing around to see how everyone else was doing. Most of the class kept slipping furtive glances at the people surrounding them: this was both an advantage and a disadvantage of Potions, that it was hard to keep your work private. Within ten minutes, the whole place was full of bluish steam. Hermione, of course, seemed to have progress the furthest, though Draco was only just behind. Her potion already resembled the "smooth, black currant-coloured liquid" mentioned as the ideal halfway stage.

Draco was about to cut his sopophorous bean when Slughorn passed by their table.

"Sir, I think you knew my grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy?" he asked.

"Yes," Slughorn replied without looking at him, "I was sorry to hear he had died, although of course it wasn't expected, dragon pox at his age…"

And he walked away.

"Don't try," Hermione whispered, stirring her cauldron once again. Her potion was still deep purple, though according to the book it should have been turning a light shade of lilac. "I've heard that he isn't fond of Death Eaters' children."

Draco rolled his eyes, finally managed to cut up his bean, and watched as a solitary drop of juice fell into his cauldron, lightening his potion from an indigo colour to the same shade as Hermione's. He stared at it.

"I don't think that was enough juice," he muttered.

Hermione nodded, already working on cutting up two more beans.

Finally, Hermione's was a light lilac and Draco's was a darker shade of lilac, but he deemed it close enough. They both then moved on to stirring counter-clockwise. Their potions were still resolutely lilac and were not lightening at all.

"And time's…up!" Slughorn called. "Stop stirring, please!"

Draco and Hermione both set their ladles down on the table. Hermione watched Slughorn grow closer nervously and Draco looked around at the other potions. Although his potion was still darker than Hermione's, no one else's were as light as his. MacMillan's potion was a dark navy, and Ron's was the colour of liquorice. Some of the Ravenclaws' potions were dark purple.

Slughorn moved slowly among the tables, peering into cauldrons. He made no comment, but occasionally gave the potions a stir or a sniff. At last, he reached the Slytherins' table.

He grimaced at Zabini's potion, which was the colour of mucus, nodded at Theo and Draco's potions, which were both a moderately light shade of purple, but when he reached Hermione's cauldron his face split into a smile.

"The clear winner!" he cried to the dungeon. "Excellent, excellent, Miss Granger! Here you are, then, here you are—one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!"

Hermione slipped the tiny bottle of golden liquid into the pocket of her robes as Draco muttered, "I don't know why I even try."

"If it's that important to you," she muttered, "you can have a mouthful, if you like."

"Really?" he asked.

"What am I going to use it for?" Hermione asked.

Draco shrugged.

As they exited the dungeon, Draco and Hermione both laughed at the sound of Ron's voice.

"No wonder my potion was horrible," the red-head grumbled. "How was I supposed to read anything out of that thing? It had been puked on!"

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	125. Part 8: Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Six: When Harish is Gone…**

"Harish," both twins said, walking into the study. "I thought we were going to be working—"

"—on the ritual to find Jugson today."

"We are," Harish replied, not looking up at them. He was sitting at the desk by the window, writing on a piece of parchment.

There was silence for a second.

"Okay," Fred said slowly, breaking the silence. "When?"

"Hmm?" Harish asked.

"When?" George repeated. "What are you even doing?"

"Writing a letter," Harish said. He scratched out a few more words and then signed the bottom with a flourish. "I need someone to head up DA now that I'm gone, so I'd figure I would send a letter to Dean, telling him to take my place and send him a galleon that controls the others."

"Ah," both twins replied in understanding.

Harish attached the letter to the leg of an owl they had gotten for the joke shop and sent it off. Then, he led the twins down the stairs to the bare room that was in between the joke shop and their flat. The young man then walked up to the wall opposite and waved his wand in front of it. A coin slot appeared, into which Harish slipped his fake galleon. The wall disappeared and his coin whipped back into his hand.

He then led the twins in the room beyond that.

It was dark, lit only by two torches, and almost completely empty. There were a few tables, a cauldron or two, and a board to which Harish had posted everything he knew about his mission: this included information on Quirrel, on Jugson, and anything else linked to the mysterious woman that continuously tried to get the upper hand on his father.

On a table that was against the far wall was an enormous book. Neither twin knew where Harish had gotten the book, but they decided it was best not to ask. Harish led them over to it and heaved the book open with a grunt. Then, he flipped to the desired page and bent over to see what he could make out of the small words in the dimly lit room.

"This here says that the ritual has to be done on the Winter Solstice," George said, following the line of words with his finger.

"This looks complicated," Fred commented. "A potion…a long Gaelic incantation…"

"It should be," Harish replied. "This is supposed to be the most accurate ritual for finding someone's exact location."

"It has to sit in the moonlight for exactly three hours," Fred continued. "…and look at the ingredients! Draught of lunar poison? Where are we going to get that?"

"Most likely an apothecary in Knockturn Alley," Harish replied.

They were silent, and then Harish clapped his hands together.

"Well," he said. "Let's get cracking! We need to make a list of these ingredients and I need the two of you to go and find them for us."

The twins groaned and set to work.

 _LINE-BREAK_

After his last class of the day, Draco slipped away and made his way to the Room of Requirement. Earlier that day he had heard Montague talking about when he had been shoved into the Vanishing Cabinet—which was now being stored in the Room of Forgotten Things.

Draco paced back and forth, repeating "I need to see the place where everything's hidden," over and over again. He came to a halt as a door materialized beside him. Then, he pulled on the handle and entered the room.

Instantly, the teen stopped in awe. He was standing in a room the size of a large cathedral, whose high windows were sending shafts of light down upon what looked like a city with towering walls, built of what Draco knew must be objects hidden by generations of Hogwarts inhabitants. There were alleyways and roads bordered by teetering piles of broken and damaged furniture, stowed away, perhaps, to hide the evidence of mishandled magic, or else hidden by castle-proud house elves. There were thousands and thousands of books, no doubt banned or graffitied or stolen. There were winged catapults and Fanged Frisbees, some still with enough life in them to hover half-heartedly over the mountains of other forbidden items; there were chipped bottles of congealed potions, hats, jewels, cloaks; there were what looked like dragon eggshells, corked bottles whose contents still shimmered sinisterly, several rusting swords, and a heavy, bloodstained axe.

Draco slowly walked forward into one of the many alleyways between all this hidden treasure. He turned right past an enormous stuffed troll, walked a short distance further, and luckily ran straight into the broken Vanishing Cabinet.

Now Vanishing Cabinets were powered by runes. Each Vanishing Cabinet had three rune clusters, each located in a different spot on the cabinet. Draco knew this, of course. He had interrogated Montague to find out what happened when he had been stuck in the Vanishing Cabinet the previous year. Through this interrogation he had learned that the one in Hogwarts connected directly to one in Borgin and Burkes. After Draco had learned this, he went and read up on Vanishing Cabinets.

Draco spent the next few minutes trying to find the three rune clusters. He only found two, however. One of the two was also so complicated and small that he knew he had no hope of doing the entire task by himself.

"I need Hermione," he muttered.

Draco, of course, could not get Hermione straight away for the first DA meeting of that year was scheduled to start in less than half an hour. He packed up his things and quickly made his way back to the entrance of the room. He stepped outside the room and watched as the door disappeared. Then, he summoned the room they used for DA and went inside to wait.

Ten minutes later, other people began to arrive.

Dean was one of the first to show up. He and Draco merely nodded at each other before Draco resumed reading a book on Runes and Dean paced slowly in front of the door. Then, the rest of the members of DA trickled through the door in large groups—now that Umbridge was gone, there was not an urgent need for a lot of secrecy (though they preferred that no one be told about it still).

Once they were all there, and sitting on cushions on the floor, all of the students looked around, not quite sure who they were supposed to be looking to for direction. Dean then stood up and cleared his throat.

"So I'm going to be in charge for the next two years," he told them. "I suppose we'll start by talking about our plans for this year."

Hermione raised her hand.

"Yes, Hermione?" he asked.

"I think we should recruit more members," Hermione suggested.

Dean nodded.

"Especially since a good number left Hogwarts last year," Dean agreed.

"And we should focus on more complex spells," Draco added. "We could all figure them out together."

The others murmured their assent.

"So it's decided then," Dean said. "I will make some plans and contact you using the coins as to when our next meeting is."

And with that they began to catch up, while others left. Draco rushed after Hermione when he saw her leave with Daphne and Ginny.

"Hermione!" he called.

"Yes?"

"How good are you with Runes?"

 _LINE-BREAK_

Harish stood across from his father, his wand held aloft.

"Well?" Voldemort said. "Give me your best."

Harish hesitated, not really wanting to attack his father, but finally sent out a Stunning Spell, deciding to start low. Voldemort flicked the spell with apparent ease. Jostled into action, Harish increased intensity of his spells, sending out an assortment of cutting curses, jelly-legs jinxes, and stunning spells all at once. Still, Voldemort still managed to deflect all his spells.

Then, suddenly Voldemort disappeared and Harish felt something poke into his back. He turned to see his father standing behind him with his wand in his back.

"And you would be dead," the Dark Lord announced with a smug smile.

"Could you teach me how to do that Apparating thing?" Harish asked eagerly.

"I suppose I could…" Voldemort replied with a mock sigh.

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 **~TTFN**


	126. Part 8: Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Chapter Seven: All Hallows Eve**

The joke shop echoed with special, eerie music and noises as Harish sat at the counter, waiting for hours to end. While he did so, he read from the enormous book usually kept in their back room. All of the assistants had already gone home, so it was just him and the twins, who were tampering with cackling jack-o-lanterns.

A vein ticked in Harish's face as he was continually distracted by the glow of different colors.

"Can't you find something better to do?" he asked after giving up.

"Why can't we just close shop for the day?" Fred asked.

"I doubt anyone else will be coming by once the sun sets," George added.

Harish sighed dramatically as he slipped a bookmark into the page and slammed the book shut. Then, he made his way over to the door and flipped over the sign to where it read 'closed' from the outside. He waved his wand, causing the door to lock and the blinds to come down, covering the windows.

"Come on, then," he sighed.

He led them into their back room and went into the secret chamber. There, on one of the tables, was a cauldron, ready and waiting for them. Harish slapped the book onto the table and opened it back to the page he had been reading minutes before. The twins went and pulled bags and bottles of ingredients out of a cupboard and set them on the table as well.

Instantly, the three set to working, cutting up roots and crushing substances into powder. Harish lit a fire underneath the cauldron and began the potion by pouring the essence of moonlight poison into the cauldron.

Next, he added rosemary leaves and gurdy roots. He stirred clockwise until the potion turned silver and then turned the heat under the cauldron down to let the potion simmer. Finally, he set an alarm to go off at midnight so that he would be able to set the cauldron in the moonlight.

They had taken the first step to finding Jugson—and in turn, whoever was behind the attacks on Harish that had taken place in his sixth year.

 _LINE-BREAK_

The Dark Lord sat in his high-backed chair in the meeting room, drumming his fingers on the armrests. To his right stood Lucius, and Bellatrix was to his left. All of the Death Eaters were there except one person, who they were waiting on—Severus Snape.

Finally, there was a crack and Snape appeared, immediately dropping into a bow.

"Forgive me, my lord, for my tardiness," Snape droned. "I had to receive permission from Dumbledore so as to seem that I still owe my allegiance to him."

"No matter," Voldemort replied in his usual high, cold voice. "I trust that you have done as instructed?"

"Yes, my lord," Snape replied. "I have discovered all of the wards that protect Hogwarts." He pulled a piece of parchment out of his robes with a flourish and it floated to Voldemort, who sat back in his chair reading through them.

"Very well," he said, rolling the parchment up and storing it in his own robes. "Now, about the Ministry. Have you all done as I instructed?"

The room echoed with murmurs of, "Yes, my lord," and "It has been done, my lord."

Voldemort's mouth curled into a smile and he said, "I have set for a time for our little _excursion_. We will do it in the summer. No one will be suspecting a thing."

"Excuse me for asking, Father," Harish's voice sounded from the back of the room, receiving some stares, "but what are you planning to do once the Ministry is yours?"

"That is _my_ business," Voldemort replied shortly.

Harish visibly wilted and Voldemort felt a twinge of regret, but he knew he could not divulge his entire plan in front of his Death Eaters. He did not quite know himself what all he was going to do—he had been fighting for so long that the thought of being in control was very odd indeed.

Of course, the first step would be to secure a new Minister—one that sided with Voldemort's views on the Wizarding World. But beyond that, he was not entirely sure what he would do with the Ministry. Before he thought about that, he intended on getting rid of Dumbledore.

The old man had been a thorn in his side ever since his integration into Wizarding society. He knew that Dumbledore had been suspicious of him and had twisted views of him since the day they met—he had failed to understand that his prizes were not that of a bully, but of a boy who tried his hardest to stay in charge of peers that bullied _him._

And that was not even to mention the fact that Dumbledore had suspected him outright during the time that the Chamber of Secrets was open. Harish had told him how Dumbledore had reacted to the diary—wondering how Voldemort could be behind the attacks—and did not seem satisfied when Harish told him that it had been a demon all along.

But it was no matter now, for Voldemort knew that despite all the trouble Dumbledore had caused, he would be gone soon. And in leaving the mortal plane he would be doing Voldemort a single, and very great, favour.

Voldemort gleefully relished at this thought, and only paid enough attention to the rest of the meeting to boss more of his Death Eaters around.

 _LINE-BREAK_

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, sucking on a lemon drop. He had to admit that things were not going quite as planned. The Longbottom boy was turning out not as she should have at all—he was not the mindless saviour that would kill himself to defeat Voldemort. On the contrary, he had de-friended Ron and allied himself with Voldemort's son of all people.

That was another area that frustrated him. How could he have overlooked something so obvious? The boy had been going to school there for six years before he discovered that he was the son of Lord Voldemort. During those six years he had been very similar to his adoptive "father".

He was the perfect student, capturing the hearts of teachers and peers. Of course, there were the pranks that set him apart from his father, but Severus had mentioned a few odd instances as they occurred that involved several older Slytherins being sent to the hospital wing. The boy also seemed to be controlling and was the unofficial leader of Slytherin, and had a following of students that even included other houses.

It was a wonder he had not automatically connected the dots after this behaviour, but it had taken him until the Dark Lord had returned, forgone his alias of Anata Blake. Dumbledore was frankly quite glad that the cretin, Harish Blake, had left Hogwarts. In his wake, all troubles seemed to have left Hogwarts. There was no happenings with the Chamber of Secrets, no maniac trying to hunt the boy down, no disguised, rogue Death Eater trying to have him killed in a tournament, and no Ministry workers trying to silence him. All was calm, and it was even a bit unnerving.

Dumbledore sighed as his thoughts turned to the Longbottom boy once again. More specifically, he thought of the prophecy. It was said that a boy would be born at the end of July that had the power to defeat the Dark Lord. Initially, both Dumbledore and Voldemort had thought it was Harry Potter. This was proved wrong when the boy was killed by the Dark Lord.

Then, he had thought that the Chosen One was Neville, as he was the only boy left that fit the proper description. His parents had defied Voldemort three times, and he was born at the end of July. But despite this, the boy had proved to be a failure of a saviour. From the first day of Hogwarts, he had been stupid and unable to perform the simplest spells. As he grew and became a better wizard, Dumbledore had begun to hope that perhaps he would be powerful enough to defeat the Dark Lord after all, but his hope was lost when the boy switched sides in the war.

Dumbledore groaned in frustration and rubbed his throbbing temples. If only Lily's sacrifice had worked. Then, perhaps, he might have had a saviour worth cultivating.

* * *

 **TTFN**


	127. Part 8: Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Eight: Harry Potter…Sightings?**

Even amidst all of the work that had suddenly piled onto the sixth years and DA meetings, Neville had still miraculously found time to visit with Hagrid. The half-giant was not overly friendly at first, since Neville had stopped taking his class, but things had smoothed out by the end of his visit.

On the other hand, things still had not smoothed out between him and Ron. Being in the same house, they saw each other often. When in the dormitory, neither boy acted like the other existed. The same went for when they passed in the corridors. In the few classes they had together, they chose to sit on opposite sides of the room, and when one boy was sitting in the common room and the other walked in, they would soon walk out again, wondering why they went in there in the first place.

In a way, it saddened Neville. Ron had been his first friend at Hogwarts, so he could not help but feel a slight loyalty to him. Then, in moments when Ron acted like his usual complacent self, Neville forgot his sorrow and remembered why he gave up on Ron in the first place.

One of these instances took place shortly before Halloween.

Ron had gone down to Quidditch try-outs, expecting to make the team again. Why shouldn't he, as he had been on the team last year? But Cormac McLaggen had beat him by one point. He had returned to the common room, fuming. Neville had simply shook his head and went to their dormitory to finish his work.

Now the first match of the season was upon them, and Neville was especially careful to steer clear of Ron, who had no qualms as to portraying how angry he was that he was not on the team. The match was Gryffindor against Slytherin, of course.

And this was the specific reason Neville chose not to go to the game.

Now having a good amount of extra time, Neville decided to go to the library to finish up an essay. On his way there, he glanced out the windows to see rain pouring down and wind blowing in strong gusts. Just as he had begun to wonder how the teams were faring in the unexpected storm, footsteps interrupted his thoughts.

He turned to see Draco, Hermione, and Ginny walking down the corridor.

"Draco! Ginny!" Neville exclaimed. "What are you doing here? Isn't the match Slytherin to Gryffindor?"

"No," Draco replied with a small smirk and a shake of his head. "We aren't playing because of Pucey. He was injured yesterday."

Neville shook his head. He could see straight through Draco's façade. He had no idea what happened to Pucey, but he was sure it had most likely been on purpose; the Slytherins undoubtedly knew better than to play in weather like that.

With a final shake of his head, he turned and went to th library as the three Slytherins went onto the corridor that housed the Room of Requirement.

 _LINE-BREAK_

The next day was the first Hogsmeade trip of that year. It was still stormy. The torrential rain and howling wind from the day before had turned into sleet, that whirled about on the ever present draught. Everyone bundled up, padding themselves with sweaters, cloaks, scarves, and gloves. Then, as soon as they ate breakfast, the group of Slytherins left the Hall together and made their way to the village.

The walk into Hogsmeade was not enjoyable. Any skin that was left uncovered became raw and numb within seconds. The road to the village was full of students bent double against the bitter wind. More than once, the Slytherins each wondered if they should have stayed in the common room—they certainly would have been warmer. But they finally reached Hogsmeade and saw that Zonko's had been boarded up. Hermione pointed with a gloved hand toward Honeydukes, which was mercifully open, and she, Ginny, Draco, and Daphne staggered into the crowded shop.

"Thank goodness," Daphne shivered, removing her scarf from her pink face as they were enveloped by warm, toffee-scented air. "Let's stay here all afternoon."

They stood there for a minute, basking in the heat, before splitting up and buying large amounts of sweets. Then, when asked what to do next, Draco said, "Let's go to the Three Broomsticks. It will at least be warm."

So they bundled their scarves back over their faces and left the sweetshop. The bitter wind was like knives on their faces after the sugary warmth of Honeydukes. The street was bit very busy; no one was lingering to chat, just hurrying toward their destinations. The only exception was the old bartender that worked at the Hog's Head. He was loitering outside the Three Broomsticks, talking to Madam Rosmerta.

The four teenagers went into the Three Broomsticks and sat at a table together. Within minutes, Madam Rosmerta had re-entered her pub and brought four cups of steaming butterbeer. They sat sipping their drinks and talking quietly until every last one of them had finished all of their drink.

"Shall we just turn in now?" Ginny asked, feeling bored and disappointed with the weather.

The others nodded and they all stood and waited for a rather large group of Gryffindors clear the door. Then, they too left the pub. By the time they had exited the village and were on the road, it was only them and two girls, who were a little ways up ahead of them.

It was a little while before the four slowly became aware that the voices of the two girls, which were being carried back to them on the wind, had become shriller and louder. Draco, who was at the front of the group, squinted at their indistinct figures. The two girls were having an argument about something Katie was holding in her hand. "It's nothing to do with you, Leanne!" The one holding the package said.

They rounded a corner in the lane, sleet coming thick and fast. Just as Draco raised a hand to shield his eyes, Leanne made to grab the package the other girl was holding; the other girl tugged it back and the package fell to the ground.

At once, the girl rose into the air, not comically as a product of a regular spell or jinx, but gracefully, her arms outstretched, as though she was about to fly. Yet there was something wrong, something that wreaked of Dark Magic…Her hair was whipped around her by the fierce wind, but her eyes were closed and her face was quite empty of expression. The other five halted in their tracks, watching.

Then, six feet above the ground, the girl let out a terrible scream. Her eyes flew open but whatever she could see, or whatever she was feeling, was causing her terrible anguish. She screamed and screamed. Leanne started to scream too, seized her friend's ankles, and tried to tug her to the ground.

As the Slytherins took a wary step back, the girl fell on top of her friend, writhing, thrashing, and screaming. Just as the Slytherins wondered whether they wanted to turn back and not be caught at this scene, or whether they wanted to get closer and investigate, a rough voice reached them, carried on the howling wind.

"Stay back!" They turned to see the enormous form of Hagrid lumbering towards them. "Get back! Lemme see her!"

"Something's happened to her!" Leanne sobbed. "I don't know what—"

Hagrid stared at the girl for a second, then without a word, bent down, scooped her into his arms, and ran up to the castle with her. Within seconds, the girl's piercing screams had faded away and were replaced by the roar of the wind.

Hermione made her way over to Leanne and asked, "Did it just happen all of a sudden or—?"

"It was when that package tore," the girl sobbed, pointing at the now sodden brown-paper package on the ground, which had split to reveal a greenish glitter. Ginny bent down, her arm outstretched, but Draco seized her arm and pulled it back, tugging her to his side.

" _Do not touch it!_ "

He crouched down. An ornate opal necklace was visible, poking out of the paper.

"This has been on display at Borgin and Burkes for years," he told them. "The label said it was cursed. I didn't realize it had been sold…." He trailed off into silence before casting his eyes on Leanne, who had begun to shake uncontrollably. "How did your friend get a hold of this?"

"Well, that's why we were arguing. We were coming out of the Three Broomsticks in a large group and got separated. When I found her again, she had the package. She said it was a surprise for someone at Hogwarts and she had to deliver it. She looked all funny when she said it…Oh no, oh no, I bet she'd been Imperiused and I didn't realize!"

And the girl shook with renewed sobs.

"Did she say who the surprise was for?" Draco interrogated further.

"Someone named Daphne Greengrass."

Naturally, the first thing Draco did when he got back to the common room was throw floo powder into the fireplace, shout "The Bachelor Flat!", and stick his head in the green flames.

"Harish!" he called. "Harish! It's urgent!"

Harish appeared a minute later with a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth and his hair was wet from a recent shower.

"What's going on?"

And the tale of the girl's cursing spilled out of Draco's mouth. By the time he was done, Harish's face was inscrutable. He was torn between anger, confusion, and curiosity. Was this something to do with Jugson's employer? Why Daphne specifically? Was it to get to Harish? Was this the end of it, or would there be more attempts on someone's life?

Finally, Harish spoke.

"Get me inside the castle as soon as possible."

A week later, Harish grabbed his old school bag and stuffed it with his school robes and his pair of glasses. Then, he and the twins went down into the Alley. They took the small turn into Knockturn Alley and went into Borgin and Burkes. Borgin bowed and muttered niceties to Voldemort's son as he went through the shop and headed for the Vanishing Cabinet at the back of the shop.

"Leave me," he said shortly to Borgin.

Borgin bowed and backed out of the main portion of the shop.

"All right," Harish said, turning to the twins. "I'm ready."

Fred cast the spell and Harish once again felt like he was melting. He put on his glasses and climbed into the Vanishing Cabinet. Inside, he changed into his old school robes. Then, when he opened the cabinet door, he found himself standing in the Room of Requirement.

Excited that it worked, the young man quickly made his way out of the room and into the hallway. He breathed deeply, and looked around with a smile on his face. It felt like it had been so long since he had been in Hogwarts.

 _LINE-BREAK_

Professor McGonagall stood outside her classroom, waiting for students to come in. While she did so, she watched the corridor to ensure there was no goofing off between classes. She was just contemplating how peaceful and quiet it had been since the twins and their ringleader, Harish Blake, had left school.

Then, suddenly her eyes caught on a student that had been blending in with the mass of his peers. He had emerald green eyes, messy black hair, and large round glasses that seemed to drown his pale face.

McGonagall jumped and clutched her heart, leaning against the wall with her eyes clamped shut. When she opened them again, the boy that looked like a sixteen-year-old version of the late Harry Potter had disappeared.

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	128. Part 8: Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Nine: A Hunt for the Informant**

The potion frothed, sparks flying out of the boiling cauldron as Harish added the last ingredient. Instantly, the potion changed colors, resembling molten copper. The young man then picked up his enormous book and began reading the incantation aloud, while waving his wand above the cauldron in circles. Billows of fog rolled over the cauldron's rim and onto the table as the potion cooled.

Then, Harish took a glass vial and ladled some of the potion into it. It was cold, though it was not completely frozen. Harish raised the vial to his lips and swallowed the potion. Despite it feeling cold to the touch, it was warm as it slid down his throat and it tasted metallic.

Harish then grabbed Fred and George by the elbows and Disapparated. They experienced the usual sensation of being squeezed through a rubber tube, and minutes later their feet hit the ground.

Harish glanced around, blinking against the sudden sunlight. They were standing on an dusty, dirt road. Nothing else was nearby except for an old warehouse that was a good ways away from them. All around were brown fields and bare trees.

Harish glanced around and said aloud, "This road must dump off on a Muggle highway somewhere."

"Where are we supposed to be looking?" George asked.

"There's nothing out here," Fred finished for him.

"We might as well try that warehouse," Harish reasoned, pointing to it.

They walked forward, and Harish paused after he had made it a few feet.

"There's an anti-apparition ward," Harish stated.

"How do you know?" both twins queried.

"My father's been training me on recognizing magical signatures," Harish replied simply, before continuing in silence.

He led them all the way up to the door of the warehouse, which was locked and had a rusted padlock on the handle. Harish wordlessly cast a spell that unlocked the padlock, which opened with the most painful screech that had assaulted Harish's ears. Then, the old, metal door opened with a groan.

"Well come on, then," Harish said quietly after a moment of hesitation—there was no telling what they would find inside that warehouse.

Once inside, it took a minute for their eyes to adjust to the lighting; other than sunlight streaming in through two windows that were high above them, the warehouse was dark. It was the perfect image of abandonment—there were no shelves, no people, no sign that it had been used in years. There were only a few overturned boxes in the corners of the building and dust flying in the air, visible in the bleak streams of winter sunlight.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Fred asked, looking around.

"We could have brewed the potion incorrectly," George added.

"No," Harish said, wiping a hand across the floor. "If no one has truly been here in years, then why isn't there dust on the floor? Something isn't right about this place…Plus, why would there be an anti-apparition ward on a random warehouse in the middle of nowhere?"

Neither twin answered.

Harish walked around the warehouse, his footsteps echoing off of the metal walls. Then, once he reached the back wall, he stopped. Rubbing a hand across the wall, he muttered, "I can feel a magical signature here." He turned to the twins, who were still standing back towards the door. "If someone is not here now, they were here once." The young man turned back to the wall and muttered, this time to himself, "Now let me just see…"

He waved his wand and jumped back as the floor underneath him began to quake. He silently motioned the twins over and watched as the stone where he had just been standing slid to the side to reveal a concrete staircase, even darker than the warehouse they were standing in.

When the twins had both made it over to where he was standing, he whispered, "I'm going down there. I need someone to come with me and help me search. Whoever's left needs to stand guard out here."

Fred and George both looked at each other as Harish starting climbing down the staircase.

"I'm not staying out here by myself," George said shortly before making his way to follow Harish.

"Of course," Fred muttered to himself as George's footsteps faded away. "Leave the less Slytherin twin to guard an entrance to a secret bunker by himself…I see how it is…"

Once he got to the bottom of the stairs, and his eyes once again adjusted to the darkness, George saw that Harish had paused a few feet ahead of him. George quickly hastened to catch up and whispered, "So, what now?"

"I'll look in the rooms on the left," the boy replied. "You look in the rooms on the right."

"By myself?" George squeaked.

"Yes," Harish whispered exasperatedly with a roll of his eyes, " _by yourself_."

And with that he turned to the left and went through the closest door.

Honestly, Harish was just as scared as George was. He breathed heavily as he lit his wand and made sure that the room (which had previously been pitch black) was completely empty. This bunker was almost identical to the one that Harish had spent time in when he was about seven. It seemed like ages ago by then. Instead of having been captured, Harish was the one doing the capturing…Yes, much had certainly changed.

After Harish had determined that the room was indeed empty, he exited and went back out into the torch-lit corridor. There, he found George, still standing where he had left him.

"Have you been standing here the entire time?" Harish asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No," George replied. "I just came back out," he pointed lamely to the door across from Harish's.

Harish shook his head as George walked slowly over to the next door on the right-hand side. Then, they both froze at the sound of a thump overhead.

"That would be Fred," Harish whispered.

George nodded.

There was another thump and a shout.

"Or maybe not!" Harish exclaimed, running back to the staircase with George hot on his heels.

The two eighteen-year-olds stopped where their eyes were just above the floor of the warehouse, not wanting to immediately attract attention to themselves before they could assess the situation. There, they saw Fred in a scuffle for the exact person they had tracked down—Jugson.

It seemed that they had completely forgotten about their wands, as Fred was behind Jugson, holding him in a chokehold.

"Harish!" Fred shouted. "I got him!"

Seeing a good chance to show himself, Harish ran up the rest of the steps and drew his wand. But Jugson was faster. He drew his wand in an instant, and in the next, Fred was sprawled on the ground with Jugson standing over him.

"Expelliarmus!" Harish exclaimed, deciding to start low in the hopes of catching Jugson off his guard.

Jugson blocked it with a shield, and Harish ducked as the spell whizzed back towards him. Jugson quickly sent out a trip jinx that left both Harish and George lying on the floor as well. Harish looked up to see Jugson scrambling to the other end of the warehouse, undoubtedly planning on Disapparating once he got outside the wards.

But Harish leapt to his feet and waved his wand. The door to the warehouse, which they had left open in their fear of what they would find inside, slammed shut and there was a clang as the padlock locked itself. Jugson rattled on the door and just as he was pulling his wand out to unlock the door, Harish sent out a stinging jinx.

Jugson's wand clattered to the floor, as he hissed in pain and gripped his wand hand. Then, the wand began to slide across the floor towards Harish as he wordlessly summoned it.

Desperately, Jugson threw himself onto the floor and caught onto his wand, only to be dragged towards Harish as well. Harish released the spell as soon as he realized he was dragging Jugson towards him.

The former Death Eater then stood and eyed Harish warily with his wand raised. He knew that Harish would be much more powerful since the last time he had seen him; it had been several years of course. And even then, Harish had been a good match for him. If it hadn't been for the convenient placing of the staircase Jugson had caused him to fall down, he might have even beaten the older man. Jugson was only too aware that he was duelling the Dark Lord's son—one of the most powerful wizards of the age.

"You aren't going to run from me again, are you, Jugson?" the devil child asked with a small smile curling his lips.

Jugson raised his wand a little higher and took a step back. Harish's laughter echoed throughout the warehouse.

"Incarcerous!" Harish cried.

Jugson dropped to his stomach and rolled to avoid the ropes that shot out of Harish's wand. Then, he fired off a blasting curse. Harish swished his wand and a chunk of the floor rose and exploded on impact. Impatiently, Harish banished the smoke and dust to discover that Jugson had used the distraction to make it out of the door.

Harish cursed and ran after him as George went to his brother to see if he could get him onto his feet again. As soon as he cleared the door, Harish sent off a volley of spells:

" _Stupefy, Incarcerous, Locomotor Wibbly!_ "

Jugson stopped the stunning spell and the jelly legs jinx with a shield, but the ropes grabbed him by the ankles and he fell to the ground hard. The first thing he did was reach for his wand, but when he realized it had fallen out of his reach, he tried pulling on the cords that were around his ankles.

Harish shot out more cords, which wrapped around the man's chest, binding his arms to his sides. The young man hurried forward, picked up Jugson's wand, and stuffed it in his pocket. Then, he pulled Jugson up by his hair.

"Who do you work for? Why did they try to kill me?"

Jugson began to laugh insanely.

"Still gnawing on that bone, are you?" he asked. "Well you won't find out from me!"

Harish dropped him to the ground with a look of disgust on his face and kicked him hard enough to knock him out. Seconds later, the twins joined him.

"Ready to go?" Harish asked. They nodded. "Then come on."

He levitated Jugson and the three of them walked to where they could Apparate. There, they disappeared with a crack.

* * *

 **~TTFN :)**


	129. Part 8: Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Ten: Party at the Bachelor Flat—Ehm—Joke Shop**

"Where did you find him?" Voldemort was asking Harish. He had a hand on his chin, calmly surveying Jugson, who was still unconscious and now tied to a chair in the secret backroom of the joke shop. The twins had left the two heirs of Slytherin alone, deciding not to witness Jugson's interrogation.

"We found him in a warehouse that was above another bunker."

"One like—?"

"The one you found me in ten years ago? Yes."

"Hmm," Voldemort mused. He walked forward and pointed his wand at Jugson, muttering, " _Rennervate_."

Jugson coughed and slowly lifted his eyes to the two men that were standing before him. Before, he had been scared of Harish. Now he visibly quaked at the sight of his old master.

"My lord," he rasped. "Please…"

"Silence!" Voldemort thundered. "If I had my way, I would torture you until you were a mass of pathetic, snivelling, shell of a creature…Unfortunately, you are _currently_ needed for other means."

He stressed the word "currently", making it clear to both Harish and Jugson, that once the man had fulfilled his use Voldemort would have no hesitation in carrying out his revenge.

"You will have to go ahead and kill me," Jugson growled. "I am not telling either of you anything."

"You have a surprising amount of stubbornness for a coward," Harish spat. "You cannot fight to save your life, but can you stand torture?"

Voldemort relished in the screams that, had they not put silencing wards on the room, would have been echoing throughout the whole of Diagon Alley.

Hours later, Jugson still hadn't told them the identity of his employer. Deciding to take a break, Harish led his father upstairs to the study and conjured him a glass of water. He then sat at his desk and watched as his father pulled up a chair out of thin air across from him.

"Won't someone notice that Jugson is missing if we keep him here?" Harish asked.

"Oh, someone definitely will," Voldemort replied, taking a sip of water.

"Isn't that a bad thing?" Harish prompted.

"Not necessarily," Voldemort replied, setting his drink down and pressing his fingertips together. "There is no way someone will trace him back here. I have a feeling whoever is behind all of this sees their minions as dispensable," Voldemort added, leaving the rest of his sentence unspoken. _'Much like myself…'_

Voldemort finished the rest of his drink swiftly and stood.

"I must be off," he told his son. "Interrogate him more as you see fit. Be sure to keep note of every single thing he says—anything could be used to narrow down who we're looking for."

"Like the gender of his employer," Harish muttered.

"What was that?" Voldemort asked, pausing in the doorframe.

"Earlier—when he attacked me in my sixth year—he let slip that his employer was a 'she' and had the audacity to get angry at me when I probed him further."

Voldemort chuckled and left. Harish heard the flare of their fireplace seconds later, confirming that the Dark Lord had flooed back to Slytherin Manor.

Three days later, Harish found the joke shop closed and full of guests. He found it mildly amusing that the DA had been invited over, despite the fact that they had a man trapped in their back room. He and the twins, in the days between the 21st and the 24th, had decided to invite over any friend of theirs that hadn't stayed at Hogwarts for the holidays. Of course, they had nowhere to hold the party and ended up pushing all of the shelves and merchandise to the corners of the room and conjuring couches to place in front of them.

The members of the DA that had made it were Luna Lovegood, Dean Thomas, Angelina Johnson, Hermione, Draco, Ginny, Daphne, Cho Chang, Roger Davies, Michael Corner, and Terry Boot. Justin Finch-Fletchley, Ernie Macmillan, and Neville. Katie Bell was still in St. Mungo's and both Hufflepuff girls were spending their holidays elsewhere. Then, Harish and the twins were there, of course, because it was their shop.

The teenagers munched on food that the older trio had set out for them, and they sat on the couches talking a bit. The party passed uneventfully. In fact, it was so boring that Harish escaped towards the end of it into their flat above the shop and sat in the windowsill.

"Where's Harish?" Daphne asked one of the twins. "I thought I saw him earlier…"

"Most likely upstairs," George replied.

"Harish does not enjoy feeling cooped up with a bunch of people," Fred explained.

"I don't think he enjoys being cooped up period," Hermione, who had been istening to their conversation, chimed.

"It all comes from being raised by a Dark Lord, I guess," Daphne agreed quietly.

"Speaking of," Hermione muttered. "Do these lot know which side of the war they are fighting for?"

"I expect most of them don't," George replied.

"I don't think Harish has told them," Fred added.

"He seems to want them to figure it out," both finished.

"Though I expect Dean knows already," Hermione mused.

"And perhaps Luna," Ginny added.

"Have you been here this whole time?" Fred asked in annoyance.

"No," Ginny replied, "but I heard enough."

"What is up with people and eavesdropping?" George muttered.

Ginny shrugged.

"We can't help it," she replied. "You lot always have the most interesting conversations."

Both twins shook their heads in defeat.

"So when are they going to find out?" Ginny asked, bringing the rest back onto the topic they had previously been discussing.

They turned and watched a pair of Hufflepuffs chatting happily on a couch.

"I dunno," Fred said.

"But I expect they will be fighting loyally with Harish—"

"No matter what side he's on."

After that day, the rest of the holidays passed quickly. Al of the others returned to their respective homes and the twins experimented with Harish a good bit. Harish went in to interrogate Jugson at least once a day. That was not going well. Jugson still refused to divulge any information on his employer, though he was more than happy to accidentally let slip information on the coworkers he knew. But no matter how stubborn Jugson was, Harish was even more stubborn, and he was determined to figure out who the third party in the war was and how big of a threat they would be.

But soon Harish found it was time to reopen the shop.

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	130. Part 8: Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **Also, warning, some of these chapters are bit shorter than usual because they are filler chapters. I would just merge or skip them, but they have to be there to keep the feeling of a progressing story (because I can't just skip from Christmas to the next school year). Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven: Apparition Fail**

When the Hogwarts students got back from their holidays, the sixth years were greeted with posters that hung on the Notice Board, informing them about Apparition lessons that would start the first weekend of February. This got a lot of them excited, as nearly everyone always was when they heard they were to be learning how to Apparate.

On the first Saturday of the month, the sixth years assembled in front of Professors McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, and Sprout—the Heads of Houses—and a small wizard whom Harish took to be the Apparition instructor from the Ministry.

He was oddly colorless, with transparent eyelashes, wispy hair, and an insubstantial air, as though a single gust of wind might blow him away. Ron vaguely wondered whether his odd appearance was caused by him apparating so much, as Ron was sure he taught Apparition every year, or whether it was just an ideal build for someone wishing to vanish.

"Good morning," the Ministry wizard said, when all the students had arrived and the Heads of Houses had called for quiet. "My name is Wilke Twycross and I shall be your Ministry Apparition instructor for the next twelve weeks. I hope to be able to prepare you for your Apparition Tests in this time, by which time many of you may be ready to take your tests.

"As you may know, it is usually impossible to Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts. The headmaster has lifted this enchantment, purely within the Great Hall, for one hour, so as to enable you to practice. May I emphasize that you will not be able to Apparate outside the walls of this Hall, and that you would be unwise to try.

"I would like each of you to place yourselves now so that you have five clear feet of space in front of you."

There was a great scrambling and jostling as people separated, banged into each other, and ordered others out of their space. The Heads of Houses moved among the students, marshaling them into position and breaking up arguments. Then, they called for quiet once again as everyone was situated.

"Thank you," Twycross said. "Now then…"

He waved his wand. Old fashioned wooden hoops instantly appeared on the floor in front of every student.

"The important thing to remember when Apparating are the three D's!" Twycross exclaimed. "Destination, Determination, and Deliberation!

"Step one: Fix your mind firmly on the desired _destination_ ," Twycross informed them. "In this case, the interior of your hoop. Kindly concentrate upon that destination now."

Everyone glanced around furtively to check that everyone else was staring into their hoop, and then hastily did as they were told. Ron stared at the circular patch of dusty floor enclosed by his hoop and tried to think of nothing else. This was proving difficult, as random thoughts of anything from food to the twins kept popping into his head.

"Step two," Twycross said, interrupting Ron thoughts, who hastily began focusing on his hoop once again. "focus your _determination_ to occupy the visualized space! Let your yearning to enter it flood from your mind to every part of your body!"

Ron had no idea what the dotty old man had meant by that, so he tried to imagine himself disappearing with a pop and reappearing inside the circle.

"Step three," Twycross called, "and only when I give the command…Turn on the spot, feeling your way into nothingness, moving with _deliberation_! On my command, now…one—"

Ron glanced around again; there were a lot of people that looked absolutely distressed at being asked to Apparate so quickly.

"—two—"

Ron tried to fix his thoughts on his hoop again; he had already forgotten what the three D's stood for.

"—THREE!"

Ron spun on the spot, lost balance, and fell flat on his face. He was not the only one, The whole Hall was suddenly full of staggering people; Neville had spun himself right into the person next to him. Seamus had done a sort of pirouetting leap into his hoop and had looked momentarily thrilled before he had caught sight of Dean roaring in laughter at him.

"Never mind, never mind," Twycross said dryly, who did not seem to have expected anything better. "Adjust your hoops, please, and back to your original positions…"

Ron forced himself to focus, determined to make it into the hoop again. He returned to his spot, staring a hole into his hoop and repeating the three D's (once he had remembered what they stood for). Twycross began counting once again.

"One—"

Ron stared into his hoop, his destination, and once again imagined himself appearing inside it.

"—two—"

Ron was certainly determined all right. He was determined to figure out what the twins were up to….

"—THREE!"

Ron turned on his heel, and then—

He spun out of control and fell on his bottom.

The rest of the session went on like this with nothing eventful happening other than Hannah Abbot accidentally Splinching herself. An hour later, Twycross fastened his cloak at his neck and said, "Until next Saturday, everyone, do not forget: _Destination. Determination. Deliberation._ "

And with that, he waved his wand, Vanishing the hoops. And walked out of the Hall accompanied by Professor McGonagall. Talk broke out at once as people began moving toward the entrance hall.

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	131. Part 8: Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...**

* * *

 **Chapter Twelve: Discovery**

Harish sat once again in their back room, surveying his board that had everything he knew about the person who had been haunting him his entire life. Behind him, Jugson was still tied to the chair, panting and mumbling to himself.

Harish growled in annoyance. There was still something missing…it felt as though Harish knew who he was looking for…like the name was buried at the back of his mind but he couldn't dredge it up. He looked at her known agents, the map of their locations, and there was no connection between them…He wracked his memory, trying to hold onto everything he had ever heard or seen that could help him.

Then, suddenly it all clicked and Harish's eyes widened in realization.

The one common thing about the hideouts were that they were bunkers, hidden in the middle of nowhere. Places that had been forgotten. Harish could vividly remember the bunker from his trip not too long ago; the walls dripped with water, the corridor was dimly lit with a few torches, the rooms were pitch black…The memory took him straight back to his kidnapping when he was very young:

 _Harish sat outside Malfoy Manor, curled up against the side of the house between two large bushes. He had found this hiding spot to be alone. He didn't mind Draco, of course, but growing up alone had taken its toll on him—he was easily overwhelmed and sometimes simply wanted to be by himself._

 _The small boy turned to face the house and peered in the window behind him. His father, Lord Voldemort, was holding a Death Eater meeting with the few Death Eaters that still knew he was alive—mostly his Inner Circle and a few ministry workers._

 _Suddenly, he heard a crack behind him and felt a hand close over his mouth. He tried to kick, to lash out, but he could not reach his assailant. Then, he felt a surge of magic come towards him, and he was knocked out._

Next thing Harish knew, he had woken up in a bunker, identical to the one he had found Jugson in. No one spoke to him, he never even saw anyone until his father rescued him. The only way he was fed was by trays that were slipped underneath the door…

That one incident was what encouraged Voldemort to properly ward both their manor and Malfoy Manor himself, and make sure that Harish never left his sight. It was also the reason the boy never went out in public—If he could be taken from under Voldemort's nose in such a secure location, what would happen if they were in broad daylight where there were no wards or protections?

Harish clutched the bridge of his nose, breathing out deeply. He thought further. Finally, he had escaped to Hogwarts where he had complete and total freedom—freedom that led him to stealing the Philosopher's Stone. The young man could still hear Quirrell's voice in the back of his mind from his third year at Hogwarts:

" _That's what my employer seemed to think…Didn't want me to draw attention to myself…no matter. I would've killed you anyway, if I hadn't been distracted."_

The man had tried to kill him during the first match of the season, Harish recalled. If it had not been for Hermione and Draco distracting him, he very well might have fallen too…Quirrell had been very tight lipped about his employer. He did not even let slip the gender or true intentions of the woman.

As Harish kept going through his years, he realized he never wondered how the diary had gotten into Ginny's possession. He knew it had been stolen past Christmas his third year, and knew they still did not know who stole it to that day. They only knew that the next time it was seen, it had been in Ginny's hands.

A flash of a memory returned to Harish. One from their trip to Diagon Alley just before his fourth year:

" _I am so sorry," the man said, stooping to pick up Ginny's books._

 _Harish watched as the man placed the books in her cauldron, but the teen couldn't help but notice that the man kept his face angled away from the group. That was odd._

He realized he never thought about that man again, much less connect the dots that he was the reason Ginny had the diary. He must have slipped it into her cauldron that day when he returned her books to her. At this thought, Harish remembered the younger girl's words after the whole ordeal had taken place:

" _I-I didn't know. I found it inside one of the books Mum got me. I th-thought someone had left it in there and forgotten about it—"_

Yes, that must have been it. Ginny did, of course, find it inside of one of her books…one of her books that the man had picked up and held for the merest of seconds before returning it to her cauldron…

Then Harish's thoughts moved to his fifth year. Not much had happened that year. In fact, other than his godfather returning, nothing happened at all. So, he moved on to his sixth year, which if his fifth year was the year nothing happened, his sixth year was the one that _everything_ happened in.

It started out with him passing out at the Quidditch World Cup. No one saw who cast the spell that caused him to pass out, but they were all certain that it was Jugson after the fact. Because not a month later, Harish's name came out of the goblet twice. The first, he himself had put in, but the second was put in by someone else under the name of a different school. That wasn't that big of a deal, Harish had in no way lost the tournament, but it was evident someone did not have his wishes in their best intentions. For when it became evident that the tournament would not kill him, Jugson had lashed out.

Immediately after the second task, Harish was admitted to the Hospital Wing due to poisoning. It was only then that Harish finally and officially acknowledged that someone was actually trying to kill him. With his suspicions aroused, Jugson must have decided to lay low. Perhaps he thought that the third and final task would kill him.

But when Harish returned from the third task in first place, Jugson got impatient, revealing himself in an attack. The fight flitted through Harish's mind and in the back of his mind he could hear Jugson's voice:

" _If my employer wishes to remain a secret, then a secret she shall remain…"_

" _She?" Harish asked._

" _Confringo!" Jugson cried._

Harish drew in a deep breath and pulled himself out of his memories the instant he remembered his fall. It had been as though it was happening all over again and it took Harish a minute to blink the feeling of weightlessness out of his head.

He shook his head, moving on. The memories of the attempts on his own life reminded him of something similar happening—when a Gryffindor girl was sent to St. Mungo's after touching a cursed necklace that she was supposed to be delivering to Daphne…Harish was sure it was a message to him, but he had no idea who could have given the girl the cursed necklace…

And then everything fit into place. He remembered that Draco had told him about Aberforth Dumbledore standing outside the Three Broomsticks…perhaps he had decided to take a side in the war—the third side…

Harish then pulled out an old picture of the Order of the Phoenix from the first war and a picture of the original Death Eaters. Every single person that had ever done anything (other than Quirrell, of course) had either been a member of the Order or had been a follower of Voldemort. He realized that this new army consisted of people who turned their backs on their old allies.

Harish looked back to the picture of the Order.

"It's _her_!" he breathed in realization, staring at a woman towards the middle of the group. "But how…how is that possible?"

The more he thought about it, the more certain he was that he was correct.

He hastily pinned the pictures back up to the board and began making plans. He had to be careful with the way he handled this…One wrong move and he could lose the game…Nodding firmly, Harish decided that the best action to take at that moment was to inform his father that he had figured out who they were looking for—and how to find them.

* * *

 **Sorry that I STILL haven't told you even though Harish knows, but every good mystery needs a big reveal. Until then, you can have fun reviewing your guesses on who it is.**

 **~TTFN**


	132. Part 8: Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirteen: The End of a Dull Year**

Hermione stood behind Daphne with her hands on her hips as her friend packed a few last things into her trunk.

"I can't believe the school year's already over," Daphne muttered as she grabbed a picture of her and Harish off her bedside table and slipped it into her trunk.

"Well, technically we _do_ still have the feast to go to," Hermione corrected.

"Yes, but the year is just about over," Daphne replied. With a flick of her wand, her trunk snapped shut with a click. "I just can't believe it…almost nothing happened this year."

"And just think," Hermione added. "We only have one year left after this."

"Yeah," Daphne said. "About that."

"Yes?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow as she sensed Daphne's unease.

"I don't think I'm returning to Hogwarts next year."

"Why ever not?" Hermione asked.

"Well," Daphne said. "Next year the war will be starting back up, and I know for a fact Draco isn't returning…I don't see the point in it…"

"So you're going to abandon your education?" Hermione questioned.

"Let's put it this way," Daphne said, sitting serenely on her bed. "When I say 'Harish has told me the war is starting up next year,' I mean that Voldemort is planning on coming to Hogwarts. What use will we be if we're students? We might get caught in the middle of things."

"Harish has been talking to you, hasn't he?" Hermione asked with a bemused expression.

Daphne shrugged and hopped up. She walked over to the door of their dormitory with her friend in tow.

"Honestly," Daphne said as they left the dormitory. "Everyone's been talking—including Ginny."

"Bad news Daphne," Ginny said, walking up to them. "I'll most likely have to stay next year—Mum would go ballistic if she got wind of me leaving early—especially after what Fred and George pulled."

Daphne nodded sympathetically and Hermione raised a haughty eyebrow.

 _LINE-BREAK_

It was a slow day at Weasley and Co.'s. Summer vacation was about to begin for Hogwarts students, and the alley hung with a lazy air as the temperature steadily rose as the sun was high in the sky. The twins both stood together in their shop. Harish was absent, as he and his father were plotting something in privacy in their flat above the shop.

"So, what do you think they're talking about?" Fred asked.

George shrugged.

Neither of them said anything because they both knew the other was thinking the same thing—Harish had figured out who had been behind the attacks (though he hadn't told them). He and the Dark Lord were obviously plotting what to do about it.

Both of them stood in awkward silence, not knowing how to feel about the fact that the Dark Lord Voldemort was in their flat.

"It is curious that Harish hasn't told us who it is," George finally said.

Fred nodded.

"I mean, he _does_ tell us almost everything," Fred added.

"But apparently not quite everything," George replied.

They fell silent for another moment.

"Whoever it is must be trouble," George finally deduced. "Because if it was someone we could easily help with, he would tell us."

"Whoever it is must need Voldemort himself to deal with," Fred agreed.

And silence came across them again.

 _LINE—BREAK_

Hermione, Daphne, and Ginny were soon joined by Draco and the four of them headed for the End of the Year Feast; most likely the last one for Draco, Daphne, and Hermione (who was now considering leaving as well). They waved at Dean, Luna, and a few others and took their seats, once again, on the centre of the Slytherin table.

They listened with only half an ear as Dumbledore prattled on about house points and how proud he was of his students. Draco and Ginny shared smirks as Hermione whispered during Dumbledore's end of the year speech—Dumbledore was the only adult Hermione was willing to blatantly ignore.

They feasted on a vast variety of foods, talked, and laughed a good deal. Finally, it was time for them to go to bed. As Hermione started drifting off to sleep, she vaguely wondered if that was the last time she would ever spend the night in one of those four-poster beds that were draped with green bedding.

The next morning they all got up and got dressed into their school robes—the students that would not be flooing or apparating from the station would be changing into Muggle clothes once they got close to London.

The four Slytherins that remained at Hogwarts for that year were joined by Dean, Neville, and Luna. They ate candy, talked a bit, and stared out the window a bit. Finally, they made it to London, and they all bid each other farewell, promising to talk over the summer.

It was officially the end of the dullest year any of them had experienced, and they knew it was because Harish hadn't been there to make it interesting.

 _LINE—BREAK_

Barnabas Cuffe sat behind his desk in the Daily Prophet Office located in Diagon Alley. He was looking over the latest edition, editing where he saw fit—he was the head of the production of the newspapers and had editors below him, but he usually read through the _Prophet_ last before sending it to publication.

It was a generally warm summer day, so Cuffe had the windows cracked. A summer breeze blew steadily into the room, ruffling papers and notes situated on Cuffe's desk that were being held down by a pair of pristinely polished boots.

Suddenly, the quiet was interrupted.

Somewhere outside of Cuffe's office, there was a flash, a thud, and a cry of pain. The man's eyes instantly moved from the pages of the _Daily Prophet_ to the door of his office. The doorknob turned slowly, and the door opened to reveal a very aristocratic-looking young man with white blond hair.

It was none other than Draco Malfoy, the son of the quite famous donator, Lucius Malfoy, who must have only just returned from Hogwarts. Cuffe quickly sat up straight, pulling his legs off of his desk along with a few loose papers.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked, quickly thinking of a number of stories this could create.

"Oh, nothing that will cause you harm," the boy replied. "At least, as long as you cooperate. I have a proposition for you."

"Yes?" Cuffe asked warily.

The boy pulled out a pouch and dropped it onto the man's desk, spilling a great number of galleons.

"You will either publish nothing but what _I_ say, and receive all these galleons," the blonde boy said in an imperial voice, "or you will be living on the streets with no job, no money, and only the clothes on your back to keep you warm at night."

Cuffe bowed his head in defeat.

"Tell me what you wish to have done," he said.

* * *

 **And the plot picks up again with a wonderful ish-cliffie! Have fun reading the next chapters!**

 **~TTFN**


	133. Part 8: Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Fourteen: Of Weddings and Take-overs**

If Harish could have helped it, he would not have gone to the wedding. But the twins had begged and pleaded that he come with them, that it was a special moment, that Bill was their _brother_ and the first Weasley in their generation to be married.

So Harish found himself wearing his dress robes and stuffing Glamor Globs in his mouth as he thought hard about what he wanted to look like. His hair lengthened until its shaggy tips reached his eyes, which swirled into a nondescript brown. His nose lengthened and grew slightly, and his jaw became more square. Finally, he shrunk by several inches and turned to the twins.

"How do I look?" he asked.

"Like Bart, our imaginary co-worker," both twins replied in unison, checking their own hair in the mirror.

So by three o'clock that afternoon, Harish found himself standing outside the great white marquee at the Burrow alongside the twins and Ron, who stood moodily off to the side with his arms folded across his chest. It was obvious he didn't want to be stuck with the twins.

The three Weasleys were each clutching seating plans, so that they could help show people to the right seats. A host of whited-robed waiters had arrived an hour earlier, along with a golden-jacketed hand, and all of these wizards were currently sitting a short distance away under a tree.

Behind Harish, the entrance to the marquee revealed rows of fragile golden chairs set on either side of a long, purple carpet. The supporting poles were entwined with white and gold flowers. Fred and George had fastened an enormous bunch of golden balloons over the exact point where Bill and Fleur would shortly become husband and wife. Outside, butterflies and bees were hovering lazily over the grass a hedgerow.

"When I get married," Fred said, tugging at the collar of his own robes, "I won't be bothering with any of this nonsense. You can all wear what you like, and I'll put a full Body-Bind Curse on Mum until it's all over."

"Already planning for it then?" Harish asked, thinking of Hermione.

"Shut up," Fred muttered.

There was silence for a moment. Then, George said, "Mum wasn't too bad this morning, considering. Cried a bit about Percy not being here, but who wants him? Oh blimey, brace yourselves—here they come, look."

Brightly coloured figures were appearing, one by one, out of nowhere at the distant boundary of the yard. Within minutes, a procession had formed, which began to make its way up through the garden toward the marquee. Exotic flowers and bewitched birds fluttered on witches' hats, while precious gems glittered from many of the wizards' cravats; a hum of excited chatter grew louder and louder, drowning the sound of the bees as the crowd approached the tent.

"Excellent, I think I see a few veela cousins," George said, craning his neck for a better look. "They'll need help understanding our English customs, I'll look after them…"

Fred shook his head as George wandered off to assist them into the tent. With George gone, Fred dealt with the middle-aged witches and Ron took charge of Mr. Weasley's old Ministry colleague Perkins, while a deaf old couple walked up to Harish.

"I'm sorry, you'll have to wait a moment," Harish said to them.

"Eh?" the old man asked.

"You'll have to wait a moment!" Harish repeated louder. "I'm not seating people."

"What did yeh say?"

"I can't help you!" Harish shouted. "I'm with the twins!"

Luckily, George appeared at that moment and took the old couple into the tent. After they had disappeared and Fred and Ron had reappeared, Harish folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the tent. He watched the crowd steadily sift into the tent and ran a hand over his face to mask his boredom. Finally, after determining that the twins would be a while, Harish went inside the tent to find someone to talk to.

Harish sat down in an empty seat behind where he knew the twins were going to be sitting and turned to watch as people filed in. Some he knew, such as Lupin and Tonks, Hagrid, and Hermione; but others he did not recognize. He guessed that they must be either relatives of the Weasleys or the Delacours. Finally, the twins came and sat down by him with Hermione in tow. Behind them, Ron led Krum to his seat.

"Fancy seeing Viktor Krum here," Harish muttered to the twins. "Who invited him?"

"Fleur," George replied.

As Hermione sat by Harish, she said, "I know, it's exciting! All three champions are here."

"Though they don't know I'm here," Harish muttered.

A sense of jittery anticipation had filled the warm tent, the general murmuring broken by occasional spurts of excited laughter. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley strolled up the aisle, smiling and waving at relatives; Mrs. Weasley was wearing a brand-new set of amethyst-coloured robes with a matching hat.

A moment later Bill and Charlie stood up at the front of the marquee, both wearing dress robes, with large white roses in their buttonholes; Fred wolf-whistled and there was an outbreak of giggling from the veela cousins. Then the crowd fell silent as music swelled from what seemed to be the golden balloons.

"Oooooh!" Hermione said, swivelling around in her seat to look at the entrance.

A great collective sigh issued from the assembled witches and wizards as Monsieur Delacour and Fleur came walking up the aisle, Fleur gliding, Monsieur Delacour bouncing and beaming. Fleur was wearing a very simple white dress and seemed to be emitting a strong, silvery glow. While her radiance usually dimmed everyone else by comparison, today it beautified everyone it fell upon. Ginny and Gabrielle, both wearing golden dresses looked even prettier than usual, and once Fleur had reached him, Bill seemed years younger.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said a slightly singsong voice, and Harish looked to see a short, tufty haired wizard standing in front of Bill and Fleur. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two faithful souls…"

"Yes, my tiara sets off the whole thing nicely," an old lady said from beside Ron in a rather carrying whisper. "But I must say, Ginevra's dress is far too low cut."

Ginny glanced around, grinning, before turning to face the front again. Harish's mind wandered slightly as the wedding continued. He honestly would rather have been at Slytherin Manor opposed to there, he knew something big was going on, and knew he would have been able to be a part of it if it hadn't been for the wedding…

"Do you, William Arthur, take Fleur Isabelle…?"

In the front row, Mrs. Weasley and Madame Delacour were both sobbing quietly into scraps of lace. Trumpet-like sounds from the back of the marquee told them that Hagrid had taken out his own tablecloth-sized handkerchiefs.

"…then I declare you bonded for life."

The tufty haired wizard waved his wand over the heads of Bill and Fleur and a shower of silver stars fell upon them, spiralling around their now entwined figures. As Fred and George led a round of applause, the golden balloons overhead burst: Birds of paradise and tiny golden bells flew and floated out of them, adding their songs and chimes to the din.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" called the tufty haired wizard. "If you would please stand up!"

They all did so, and as the seats they had been sitting on vanished and were replaced by tables, Harish felt his coin heat up in his pocket. He stepped forward and grabbed the twins by the elbows. Then, they Disapparated. When Hermione went to go find Ginny, Ron stood and stared curiously at the spot where he had seen his brothers and their friend disappear.

 _LINE-BREAK_

Harish and the twins reappeared at Slytherin Manor. Around them, Death Eaters were bustling. Within moments, Voldemort had made his way through the sea of cloaks and masks and came to stand directly in front of his son. Bellatrix was not far behind.

The Dark Lord handed the twins a pair of robes and two masks. The twins looked at the masks, realizing that they were not the regular skull-like-masks that the Death Eaters usually wore, but they were plain, black, and had no eye holes or noses at all.

"You'll need to put these on," he said.

As the twins left the room to change, they noticed that the Death Eaters were all wearing the new masks, giving them the illusion of not having a face.

Once they were gone, he turned to his son. "I am glad to see you actually turned up."

"You think I would let a _wedding_ keep me from the fun?" Harish asked incredulously.

Voldemort said nothing, but motioned for his son to follow.

"I waited to brief our strike-team," he said, coming to a halt in front of a small group of Death Eaters—most likely Voldemort's most trusted and skilled Death Eaters.

Voldemort briefed them all on what they were actually going to do, before explicitly instructing them to refrain from killing people as much as possible—while Voldemort, Harish, the twins, and their strike team were there specifically for the Minister, the other Death Eaters would be taking out the heads of departments.

The twins returned in their new getup, Harish charmed his dress robes to change into regular jade robes (that may or may not match what Voldemort was wearing) and summoned a black cloak, and Voldemort addressed everyone, once again reminding them to only kill if they were being shot at with lethal spells, and they were off. Harish grinned as he knew that the Wizarding World would mark that day in their history books.

 _LINE-BREAK_

Lucius Malfoy felt his Dark Mark burn and quickly wrapped up his work. Then, he made his way casually down to the atrium of the Ministry under the guise of going to buy a copy of the _Prophet_ to read on his break.

There, he spotted several Death Eaters scattered, milling about casually. Among them were Macnair, Gibbon, Selwynn, and Nott. Lucius smiled to himself and bought a copy of the _Prophet_ , as he said he would. Then, he stared blankly at the pages, turning them every now and then until the fireplaces lining the walls flared green and dozens of faceless people in black robes flooed out.

People, naturally, began to panic after that.

Taking their cue, Lucius and the other Death Eaters that worked within the Ministry jumped into the fray, vanishing amidst the confusion of their co-workers. The first thing Lucius did was to block the fireplaces. Then, he commanded the other Death Eaters that were a part of his team to keep any Ministry personal from entering or exiting the atrium.

Finally, he scoured the sea of black, looking for the Dark Lord. Finally, he spotted him standing with Harish. Perfect. Now it was only a matter of waiting.

 _LINE-BREAK_

Amelia Bones was just closing off the office, preparing to return home for the evening when it happened. She reorganized her paperwork into neat little stacks and closed and charmed her desk drawer that held anything important. Then, just as she exited her office and was about to lock the door, as the young man that sold copies of the _Daily Prophet_ in the atrium came running up to her.

He looked frightened as he shouted, "The Ministry's under attack!"

Amelia Bones made to grab her wand, but before it was even drawn, she and the young man were stunned. The boy's memory was soon wiped by a faceless person in black robes, and two more came, grabbed the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, and disappeared.

A man with a brutish face and magnificent, sweeping robes with gold thread embroidered around the edges then walked up to the remaining Death Eater and muttered, "Go round up the rest of the team and join the others in the atrium. Suddenly, an office opened and someone appeared. Yaxley hastily backed away from the Death Eater, suddenly looking concerned. He shot a few spells, and then ran off to his own office to floo out of the Ministry.

 _LINE-BREAK_

"Is it time to move out yet?" Harish asked Voldemort amidst the confusion.

The Dark Lord's eyes took in the sight of the sea of Death Eaters that surrounded them, along with a good number of Ministry workers that were still panicking. He waited for word from Yaxley, and received it seconds later as one of the Death Eaters shot gold sparks into the air—the Head of Departments had been taken out.

"Yes," he replied simply and he began pushing through the crowd, leading his own hit team out of the lobby.

They made it to the lifts and stood in silence as Voldemort pressed the up button. The lift clattered to their floor with a halt and the grilles slid to the side to allow them inside. Once the lift was moving again, Harish asked, "How will the Minister be surprised if there is so much noise in the atrium?"

"It is not possible to hear what is going on in the atrium from the Minister's office," Lucius replied smoothly.

"And no one could have warned him?"

"I had Lucius and his team close off the atrium," his father replied. "Anyone that might have escaped before then would have been caught by Yaxley's team."

Harish nodded and waited as the lift stopped at each floor, naming off the floor and its use. Finally, the lift came to a halt and the witch said in a smooth voice, "Level One, Minister of Magic and Support Staff."

Their party walked down a hallway that was lined with door after door. Each one was wooden and had golden doorknobs and a plaque with the office owner's name on it.

They read the names on the plaques as they walked passed. None of them were the office they were looking for. The seven radicals turned around a corner and spotted another office. The nearest one had a plaque that read, "Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary of the Minister."

The twins grimaced behind their masks and Harish scowled coldly at the door.

This did not go unnoticed by Voldemort, who leaned over to his son and whispered, "I will let you deal with her later, if you wish."

Harish grinned widely.

They walked past her office, down to the end of the hall, and finally found the door that read, "Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic."

They came to a halt in front of the door. Voldemort shared a look with his son, and he nodded to the masked people behind them (plus Lucius). The five of them drew their wands, and Voldemort turned back. Without further ado, he jerked his wand and the door flew open with a crash.

Fudge, a portly old man, jerked upright in his luscious chair, which was situated behind a grand, wooden desk with clawed feet. Harish noted that his bowler hat was absent. After a second of investigation, he spotted it hanging on a coat tree with Fudge's coat.

"What's this, what's this?" Fudge blustered, his face turning red.

Voldemort smiled a nasty, wide smile and said, "Why I am afraid, _Minister,_ that we just infiltrated your Ministry."

And before Fudge could even shout out, he had been stunned, and the seven had Disapparated with the disgraced Minister in tow. Before they all completely left the Ministry, there were two letters sitting on two different desks. One, waiting to be opened by one Arthur Weasley, held information of a promotion to Muggle Ambassador. The other, addressed to Dolores Umbridge, was waiting to inform its recipient that she had been fired and all of her accounts and properties had been repossessed. All in all, they got in a good day's work.

 _LINE—BREAK_

Ron had sulked through the reception, wondering where the twins had gone. No matter what anyone else believed, Ron had not been fooled by the twins imaginary co-worker named Bart. He had never been mentioned before, he hadn't been at Hogwarts with them, and he was not in the shop the numerous times Ron had been dragged there by Ginny. But that was not the main reason he was certain that Bart was Harish Blake.

No one else could pull the twins around like that. Especially not when they were smirking like the world belonged to them. There was no doubt about it, Ron thought as he drained the rest of his butterbeer and watched the dancing couples, his brothers were up to no good along with that no good friend of theirs—Harish Blake.

Ginny plopped down beside her brother. Although Ron was an absolute prat, it did not mean that Ginny did not want to interact with her brother. It never made sense to her why Ron had cut off their relationship after she had been sorted into Slytherin. That, however, did not mean that she did not try to talk to him every now and then when she was feeling generous…or bored.

"Why aren't you dancing?" Ron asked snidely as she sat down beside him.

"I'm not really in the mood," Ginny shrugged.

"Why?" Ron retorted. "Because your _boyfriend_ isn't here?"

Knowing that her brother just wanted to anger her, she shrugged.

"Probably," she replied chipperly. "But I understand that even if he were invited, he probably would have been disowned if he had tried to come."

Ron looked at her as if she had just presented him with a Dungbomb for Christmas.

"You disgust me," he said.

"Is this how it's going to be?" Ginny asked. Ron didn't answer, obviously determined to ignore her. "Please don't do this. I know it stresses Mum knowing that we don't get along—me, you, _and_ the twins. It's hard enough for her to have to deal with Percy."

Ron folded his arms and stubbornly remained silent, but something flickered in his eyes.

"Fine!" Ginny snapped, folding her own arms and looking away. "Excuse me for trying to fix things."

They sat in angry silence for a time, pretending to watch the dancing couples. Regret settled in Ron's stomach, and he growled in aggravation, burying his head in his hands. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know which side to take anymore. But Ginny had said the right words to get him thinking.

He did not want his mother to suffer any more than she already did. He had never realized that his mother was upset that Ron didn't talk to his brothers, but know that Ginny had mentioned it, he realized that it was true. The silence turned awkward as Ron's anger melted away and he realized what a prat he had been—he had even lost his best friend because of it.

"What do you plan to do?" Ron asked, finally breaking the silence.

Ginny almost jumped in surprise and turned to her brother.

"What?" she asked.

"What do you plan to do," Ron repeated, "when Mr. Malfoy finds out?"

Ginny sighed.

"I don't know," she muttered. "I don't think either me or Draco have really thought about it—or wanted to."

Ron laughed mirthlessly.

"Yeah, I could believe that."

Ginny sighed again and her eyes rested on where Bill and Fleur were dancing in the centre of the tent.

"Their wedding makes me wonder if I want this," Ginny mumbled.

"Do you?" Ron asked.

"Maybe someday," Ginny replied.

"With M—Draco?"

Ginny looked at Ron.

"If I were to end up with Draco," she started, "would you stop speaking to me again?"

"I don't know," Ron sighed. "I guess…if you're happy…and he treats you right…"

"What am I thinking?" Ginny suddenly said loudly. "I would be disowned before I would ever get chance of _your_ approval!"

Ron shook his head.

"I don't think so," he replied. "Dad has never really been openly hostile to Draco. And he only attacks Mr. Malfoy if he is goaded."

"You're right," Ginny agreed. "Mr. Malfoy would disown Draco first…but what about Mum?"

"Dad would talk her around eventually," Ron replied with a wry smile.

"After we all receive a tongue lashing," Ginny retorted.

"And after she hexes the pants off of Ma…Draco."

"I can see it now," Ginny laughed. "'You better run, Draco! The evil Molly Weasley is after your hide!"

They both laughed and silence fell over them again, but this time it was a warm, comfortable one. Their smiles fell as something large and silver came falling through the canopy over the dance floor. Graceful and gleaming, the lynx landed lightly in the middle of the astonished dances. Heads turned, as those nearest if froze absurdly in mid-dance. Then, the Patronus's mouth opened wide and it spoke in the loud, deep, slow voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

" _The Ministry has fallen. Fudge has gone missing. Hogwarts is next._ "

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	134. Part 8: Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...**

* * *

 **Chapter Fifteen: Confrontations**

"Ron, c'mon!"

Ron came out of his room at the sound of his sister's voice and walked to the railing of his floor that overlooked the staircase below. There, Ginny was standing, holding something in her hand.

"What do you want?" he asked irritably.

"Dumbledore's here!" she called back up the stairs. "They having an important meeting!"

"So?" Ron asked. "There's no way of telling what's going on in there. They put a barrier over the door ages ago, remember?"

"Well," Ginny replied with a smirk. "The thing about being on the twins' good side is that I get free editions of their new products!"

She held up an ear that resembled the twins' old Extendable Ears, except there was no flesh coloured string attached.

"There's an ear hidden behind the ice box that picks up sounds within ten feet of it and it can project the sounds through this ear, no matter what has been cast on the door."

"That's genius!" Ron cried, hurrying down the stairs to join his sister in eavesdropping on the Order of the Phoenix.

 _LINE-BREAK_

Littered throughout the Burrow's kitchen were different editions of the _Daily Prophet_. It had been nearly a week since the Ministry had been taken over, and many headlines blared at the members of the Order of the Phoenix from every angle. Dumbledore had read all of them of course, and they were part of the reason why he had called the Order together. They read:

 **Fudge a Failure?**

This article went into depth on Fudge's problems and had featured an interview of a man named Anata Blake. In it, the man had said, "We had just wanted to show you how easy it was to take over…how inadequate this society has become…" This worried Dumbledore greatly, as he knew very well who Anata Blake actually was—Lord Voldemort.

 **Revolutionaries Take Over**

Featuring yet another interview of Blake, this article spoke of how Blake had appointed Yaxley as the new Minister of Magic. It also spoke of the people that took over the positions of the Ministry personal that were still missing—Fudge had returned by then and was immediately disgraced and rejected by the majority of Magical Britain's population.

 **Harry Potter: Is He Still With Us?**

Harry Potter sightings continued to occur. As time went on, people began wondering and discussing theory after theory. "Harry Potter's ghost might have returned," some would say. "Perhaps he has risen from the dead," others suggested. Dumbledore found this ludicrous. The most possible explanation was that Harry never died, but that was impossible. Dumbledore himself had cast the strongest tracking spell in existence to try to find the baby in the hopes that he hadn't truly died, but they had all come to the same conclusion—Harry Potter no longer existed in the mortal plane.

Dumbledore tore his eyes off of the stack of _Daily Prophet_ s and returned to the present meeting.

"—but what will we _do_ about this?" Charlie was asking.

"We will be putting up new, and very strong, wards at Hogwarts, of course," Dumbledore replied.

"Won't You-Know-Who attack the train?" Tonks asked reasonably. "It would be easier to access."

"I highly doubt he would," Dumbledore replied. "The only reason he's going after Hogwarts is because I am headmaster. We will, however, be putting protections around the train just in case. Now about this break-in at the Ministry," he said, turning to Snape. "Do you know much about it?"

Snape nodded.

"Both the Dark Lord and his son were there," he replied. "They were the only ones that did not wear masks."

"Son?!" a good number of them squawked—not many people knew the true identity of Anata Blake.

Snape was quick to explain, much to the unease of the Weasleys.

"You don't think the twins were there?" Lupin asked.

"Surely not," Molly replied. "They are good boys—all of them!"

Dumbledore shook his head.

"We cannot be sure of anything," he said sadly.

"Yes," Mad-Eye Moody barked. "We should keep them under our watch just in case. I, for one, would like to know what they're doing _right now_ …"

 _LINE-BREAK_

Hermione came storming into the shop with a newspaper tucked under her arm. Harish, who was manning the counter at that time, glanced up at her and then resumed his work despite the fact that she was almost overflowing with rage.

"Shall I get Fred for you?" he asked calmly.

"No," she answered shortly, her voice cracking from strain. "You are just the person I wanted to see."

She slapped the newspaper onto the counter and Harish blinked down at it.

Emblazoned across the front page were the words, " _Another Harry Potter Sighting: This Time at Hogsmeade._ "

Harish laughed, "Is _that_ what this is about?"

"Stop laughing!" Hermione exclaimed. "This is serious! If you keep this up, someone will be bound to find out—"

"No one has," Harish interrupted her quietly. "And no one _will_ , unless you continue shouting it for the whole world to hear." He peered over her shoulder at the customers in the shop. Then, he pulled out his clipboard and said, "Now if you are _quite_ finished worrying needlessly about me, you may go."

Hermione snatched the _Prophet_ back with a "hmph!" and stalked out of the room grumpily. The last thing she heard before the door slammed shut behind her was, "And if you see Neville, tell him I want to speak with him!"

 _LINE-BREAK_

Neville blinked at Harish, his mind trying to process the older boy's words.

"Let me get this straight," he finally huffed. "You think that the sweetest woman in the Wizarding World is the head of a secret army that's been trying to get rid of both You-Know-Who _and_ Dumbledore?"

Harish raised his hands in front of him in a gesture of peace.

"I'm not saying that she's necessarily in her right mind," he added.

Neville crossed his arms across his chest and grunted sarcastically, "Because that makes it _all better_."

"I just thought you ought to know," Harish said, standing. "You _are_ her son, after all."

He made his way over to the stairwell that led down into their back room of the joke shop, but a voice halted him before he could make it descend.

"I can prove you're wrong."

Harish smirked, his body angled away from the younger boy. Without turning, he addressed Neville.

"Is that so…?"

 _LINE-BREAK_

Alice Longbottom sat on her bed in a closed ward at St. Mungo's. The nurse was off somewhere, leaving her alone with Frank Longbottom, her husband (though she didn't quite remember), and another man named Gilderoy Lockhart. He was shielded from view by a set of curtains that surrounded both of the Longbottoms. Frank lay on the bed next to her, mouthing wordlessly at the ceiling.

The quiet monotony of hospital silence was broken as footsteps grew nearer. Accompanying them were voices, saying words that Alice could only just hear.

"When we get in there, I'll prove to you she's harmless…"

The voice warmed Alice, though she did not know why, and it sparked her memory. Brief flashes went through her mind of a boy that came to visit her and tell her stories.

"We can hope," came a new voice.

This one was cold, high-pitched, and calculating. At the sound of the second voice, Alice felt anger building inside her. Thoughts of her failure to eliminate Voldemort's son flitted through her mind.

Instantly, Alice switched back when the first one spoke again.

"What makes you so sure that you are correct?"

"I have my reasons."

All the while, the voices had been growing louder, the footsteps coming nearer. Just as Alice's mind became clear again at the sound of the second voice, the door opened and two people entered. The first had a young, round face and Alice vaguely recognized him as the boy that always visited her—her son, Neville Longbottom. The second was tall and darkly dressed. The hood of his ebony cloak hid most of his pale face.

A thick fog of fear and anger dominated Alice's mind as brief images of the war against Voldemort flitted through her mind.

" _They did this to me_ … _they will_ _ **pay**_ …"

 _LINE-BREAK_

Harish failed to keep the disbelief off of his face as Neville prattled on. The eighteen-year-old followed the younger boy through the halls of St. Mungo's, only listening with half an ear. Finally, they made it to the proper ward, and Harish followed Neville inside, his pale green eyes taking in the room.

One person occupied the beds on the left. His bed was closest to the door, and he blinked at Harish with curious blue eyes. Then on the right side of the room, a face emerged from behind a screen. Her face was long, thin, and pale. Her hair was wispy and her mouth was thin. But there was a something about her that seemed off.

There was a darkness in her wild eyes that portrayed anger and…something more sinister. There was no doubt about it. This was Alice Longbottom.

"Hello mum," Neville said in a calm, quiet voice. "I brought a friend to meet you."

Harish stood warily, watching the batty old woman and clutching his cane very tightly. She stared for a minute, not saying a word. Her eyes watched her son warmly, but then, suddenly something flickered in them as they caught sight of Harish and her demeanour changed within seconds. Suddenly, she started muttering under her breath and her eyes went from Neville, to Harish, and back again in a never ending cycle. Then, her eyes came to a stop, staring at Harish for at least thirty seconds.

And she shouted out unexpectedly, "WHY CAN'T YOU JUST _**DIE**_?!"

Both Neville and Harish jumped back in shock and Neville's eyes widened as he realized that Harish was correct after all. His mother was not harmless, like he had been led to believe. Instead, she was violent and volatile. How had he not known? He had visited her often since the day she had been admitted to St. Mungo's, after all.

Harish's wand was out in a second and Neville reluctantly drew his own. Alice surprised them further by whipping out her own wand. Where she had gotten a wand from, and how she had kept it, Neville had no idea. He only knew that this was bad; Neville had heard many stories of the first war. Apparently his parents were among the best aurors, almost being as good as the likes of Mad-Eye Moody. It was not good at all that the ire of a once very talented auror was turned against them, no matter how insane she was.

Her being insane probably made it worse.

And it was for this reason that Harish and Neville were dodging spell after spell, each fired in rapid succession. Harish held his own, blocking spells with a shield that was powerful enough to send them bouncing back, and sending out a few of his own. Neville, however, was completely on the defensive, dodging and ducking under spells that came his way.

Finally, she tired herself a little and the fighting slowed enough to let Neville stand before her.

"Just stop!" he cried, blocking a spell. "You're going to hurt someone!"

Something changed in her eyes once again and the warm expression was back.

"Oh, Neville," she simpered. "I'm doing this for you."

Neville's eyes widened in shock. She had recognized him. She had even spoken his name. She cast another spell, which hit Harish by surprise, who was blasted back into the wall. Neville watched as his friend slumped to the floor, unconscious. Then, he turned back to his insane mother, who was advancing towards the Dark Lord's son.

She sent out another volley of spells, which Neville quickly blocked, darting between her and Harish. One of her spells went awry and blasted the curtains that hid her peaceable husband into the far wall, taking a few beds and potted plants with them. Poor Frank continued to stare at the ceiling, not even aware that a fight was going on in front of him. He had not even realized that the curtains had been inches away from tearing off his legs.

Neville turned back to his mother, panting heavily. He blocked more spells and the minute she slowed again, he shouted, " _Expelliarmus!"_

The power of his spell was so strong that not only did Alice's wand fly out of her hand, but she was also thrown into the wall and there was a sickening crack. Neville rushed over to her side.

"What have I done?" he asked.

"I-I'm sorry," Alice whispered, grabbing onto Neville's robes. "I f-failed."

And her eyes turned glassy as she breathed out her last.

Neville's eyes brimmed with tears, which soon poured down his face.

"I'm sorry too," he whispered.

There was a groan behind him and he turned to see Harish sit up slowly, rubbing his head. Harish took in his surroundings and walked slowly over to Neville.

"There's nothing more you can do," he said.

"It's all my fault," Neville sobbed as he was pulled to his feet.

"No," Harish said, leading him to the door of the ward. "It was self-defence. You can't blame yourself for that."

But Neville was too distraught to hear him.

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	135. Part 8: Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Sixteen: Planning, Planning, too Much Planning**

Hermione, who had stayed at the Burrow for the wedding, left a few weeks before the school year was to start up again. This left Ginny with only Ron to go with to buy her school supplies. While they got on better since the wedding, Ginny was still reluctant to spend a lot of time with him—mostly because he was still uptight about Draco.

Their parents all but kicked them out of the house after the Ministry break-in. Mrs. Weasley had found the ear, so the next time the Order held a meeting, she sent Ginny and Ron to Diagon Alley to pick up their school supplies. They got everything that was on their lists, and then Ginny dragged Ron into the joke shop.

Ron sulked near the front while Ginny went to find Harish or the twins (but mostly the twins). She was sad, of course, that she would be the only person in their group returning to Hogwarts. She was pretty sure that the only thing that would protect her from the mercy of the die-hard blood obsessed Slytherins was the fact that she was friends with the Dark Lord's son and was dating Draco Malfoy—this obviously eradicated her of her blood-traitor status to the other Slytherins.

Still, Ginny was very sad and suspected that she would be rather lonely the upcoming year. Luckily, she _had_ made up with Ron and Neville, Luna, and Dean would still be there.

The red-head squeezed through the crowd and managed to get up to the counter. There, she only saw a blonde haired witch in forest green robes.

"Where are my brothers?" she asked the woman.

"They said they'd be busy this morn'n'," the girl replied obnoxiously, chewing on a large piece of gum.

"Do you know when they'll be back?" Ginny questioned.

The blonde shrugged and Ginny growled in annoyance.

"The twins aren't here," she said to Ron.

The two of them made their way out of the shop.

"They're probably hanging out with their Death Eater pals," Ron muttered.

Ginny didn't say a word because she knew it was most likely true.

 _LINE-BREAK_

The twins were, in fact, with Harish at Slytherin Manor. All of the Death Eaters were gathered in Voldemort's large meeting room. As usual, Voldemort sat in his high backed chair with Lucius on his right and Bellatrix on his right. The Death Eaters closest to them were the ones that were most trusted or needed—Barty Crouch Jr., Harish, the twins, Draco, and Snape would have been there had the Order not been holding a meeting at that time.

The rest of the Death Eaters were behind them. Of course, the twins didn't really consider themselves, Draco, or Harish true Death Eaters. For one, none of them had the Dark Mark. For another, Harish, being Voldemort's heir, was too important to be a simple follower. On top of that, the twins and Draco were more followers of Harish than they followed Voldemort. Within the Death Eaters, the twins were treated as Harish's body guards and Draco was treated as their water boy—the one that went and did the small jobs anyone needed doing.

At that moment, Voldemort was going over their plan to invade Hogwarts, which would be happening the next month. No one knew exactly why Voldemort picked the date he did. Some thought it was because the day was a mark of dark happenings, therefore the murder of Albus Dumbledore would go well on that date. Others thought that it was because it was the day Voldemort had disappeared all those years ago, and he wanted to use this to signify his complete return to power.

But the true reason that Voldemort chose to invade Hogwarts on Halloween was one known only by himself—it was the day that he had adopted Harish. Therefore, it was only fitting that he attack Dumbledore on the anniversary of Harry Potter's death and Harish Blake's birth.

"—we will come in through Hogsmeade," Voldemort was saying. If the students of Hogwarts saw them coming, panic would ensue. On some occasions, they would want the element of surprise (such as the Ministry take-over) but in this instance, Voldemort wanted to instil as much fear as possible before killing Dumbledore. It was for this reason that the Death Eaters would be wearing their old skull masks (all of them except the three newest recruits, of course).

"I have been given a list of the wards around Hogwarts, so we know which spells we will be using," he continued on, listing the number of spells they would be casting to break down Hogwarts's wards. "Once we are inside, you will not do any fighting unless I have said you can. I plan to face Dumbledore one-on-one in a duel. The only reason you will fight is if the Order of the Phoenix attack. In that case, I want you all to stay clear of Dumbledore. He is mine. Everyone else, you can do what you want."

"We will need people inside the castle, of course," the Dark Lord continued, "in order to help us get in—no doubt the Order will try to stop us from entering the grounds."

"I will have my Dark Army inside the castle, ready for instructions," Harish replied.

"Good," Voldemort appraised.

"What if Dumbledore refuses to fight?" Harish asked.

"Then we will tear apart the castle until we have caught him," Voldemort replied vindictively.

 _LINE-BREAK_

The last week of summer passed by entirely too fast in Ginny's opinion. It was spent packing, unpacking, and repacking her trunk. Finally, September the first came and Ron and Ginny Apparated directly to Platform 9 ¾ . Their father had to work and since Ron had passed his Apparition test, he agreed to side-along-apparate her there.

Once on the platform, Ginny went to the back of the train and sat in the compartment that usually belonged to Harish. Ron helped her get her trunk in the rack and left, promising to send Dean down there if he saw him. Ginny laughed, knowing that Ron was only being so thoughtful because he was trying to make it up to Ginny.

She pulled out a book and began reading absentmindedly, and was joined by Neville, Dean, and Luna in no time.

"Where are Hermione, Draco, and Daphne?" Dean asked in concern as the train took off and began chugging lazily down the tracks.

"They aren't returning to Hogwarts this year," Ginny replied simply.

"Is it because it's rumoured that You-Know-Who will be attacking Hogwarts?" Dean asked. "Seamus's mum almost didn't let him return because of that."

Ginny nodded.

"You have no idea how true that is," she muttered, going back to her book.

This year would certainly be an odd one. As soon as she had gotten somewhat used to not having Harish or the twins around, the trio of would-be-seventh years had not returned. She sighed and closed her book, looking out the window as she finally accepted that she would not be able to focus enough to read.

They talked a bit during the ride and changed as soon as it started getting dark. They arrived at Hogwarts not long afterward and stepped out of the train into the cool night air. The four of them got into a carriage together and rode up to the castle.

They got out and went into the Great Hall, separating as they went to their own respective tables. Dean and Neville went to the far left to the Gryffindor table, and Ginny and Luna went to the right. Ginny found that her usual seat was gone, taken up by Zabini and his buddies. Ginny sighed in resignation, left Luna, who chose a seat at the Ravenclaw table, and sat by a group of other Slytherin girls that were in her year and the year above.

"Where's Draco?" Pansy Parkinson asked her.

"He isn't coming to Hogwarts this year," Ginny sighed.

They finished up their dinners in time for dessert to be served. Then, all of the students of Hogwarts went to their beds. Now that her OWL's were over and done with, Ginny found herself with harder classes and work, but less homework and more free periods (which were spent studying). Ginny spent a lot of time outside the Slytherin Common Room, mostly in the library or the courtyard with Luna. Occasionally she would have a conversation or two with Ron, Neville, or Dean. The month of September passed by quickly, and unsuspecting students found themselves looking forward to the feast on Halloween.

No one had even told Ginny the date of the attack yet.

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	136. Part 8: Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...**

* * *

 **Chapter Seventeen: The Battle of Hogwarts**

Finally, the day had come. Voldemort had been planning it for years. All of his followers were moving into position around Hogwarts. It was going to be Harish's first (and hopefully only) real battle. The young man was extremely excited.

Harish got out his set of green robes and put them on along with his black cloak. Then he secured his wand in a holster on his arm, and a back-up on his leg. He secured a belt with magically expanded compartments around his waist; it was full of all of the joke products they had invented, plus a few potions Snape had made for them.

At dusk, when the visibility was low, Harish, his friends, Voldemort, and Voldemort's Inner Circle moved out. They Apparated to the mountains just outside of Hogsmeade.

They marched through the village, sneering at the buildings. As they were spotted by the villagers, people dashed inside their homes and various nearby shops. Voldemort held back from setting the buildings on fire. They were not what he was there for.

They marched straight up to Hogwarts's front gates. Harish picked up a rock off of the ground and threw it into the air. It sailed up, just above the gates, but struck an invisible barrier and fell to the ground.

"He has powerful wards set up," Voldemort said. Harish nodded. All of the invading party spread out, drew their wands, and began chanting.

A deep murmuring rose up all around the edge of the grounds as all the rest if Voldemort's followers joined in. From inside the castle, Neville looked out the window. He could just make out the little black figures in the light that was rapidly diminishing. He clutched what appeared to be a galleon, rubbing it between his fingers and fiddling with it absentmindedly.

Jets of purple light shot out of their wands and met the wards, causing them to appear with a glimmer of violet. It was like a large bubble, bending and warping as the Death Eaters broke it down. Neville turned to see the Order of the Phoenix walking out the front door. They began chanting as well, shooting out their own jets (this time blue in colour).

"They're trying to fix the wards!" Harish exclaimed. He was standing to the right of his father.

Voldemort turned to him briefly and commanded, "Stop them."

Harish pulled out his own coin—identical to Neville's—and thought his command. Then he returned to breaking down the wards.

Each member of the DA felt their coins heat up in their pockets. They each dashed to a window and tossed some Instant Darkness powder into the courtyard below.

The blue lights disappeared and the bubble stretched and bent, before finally falling apart in little golden flakes. Voldemort took a short step forward. When he confirmed the wards were gone, he opened the gate. Harish and the others followed him.

Harish banished the powder to reveal an empty courtyard. All of the teachers were inside, each setting up their own defences. The Order of the Phoenix were lined up, waiting to fire. There was a moment of tense silence, which was broken by George.

"So Dumbledore's a no show, then?"

Harish looked around. The old man was nowhere in sight.

 _LINE-BREAK_

Dumbledore was sitting in his office when the wards fell. Instantly alarms went off. Dumbledore jumped up and looked out the nearest window. He could see the wards crumbling as Voldemort and his followers advanced. So the Order didn't hold the wards. That was disappointing.

As he made his way to his desk in his office, he heard, " _SO YOU SEND YOUR MINIONS TO FIGHT WHILE YOU HIDE IN YOUR OFFICE?"_

It was Voldemort's voice, echoing through the castle. It was greatly magnified, booming and loud. Dumbledore gripped the edge of his desk, anger coursing through him.

" _FACE ME, OLD MAN, AND I WILL SPARE THE STUDENTS. IF YOU DO NOT, I WILL SLAUGHTER EVERY MAN, WOMAN, AND CHILD WHO STANDS IN MY WAY. YOU HAVE ONE HOUR."_

" _Quietus_ ," Voldemort said.

"You're giving them time to prepare?" Harish asked, confused. "Why don't we just blast the castle apart and be done with it?"

Voldemort did not answer. Instead, he turned to his forces, which had gathered behind him.

"Prepare for battle," he said. "In one hour, we attack."

 _LINE-BREAK_

Dumbledore called all of the teachers together not long afterward.

"We need to evacuate all of the students that are younger than seventeen," he said.

"Are yeh not goin' down there?" Hagrid asked.

"I am," Dumbledore replied, "but if he were to kill me, I have no doubt that he would proceed to kill every student that remains."

The entire staff gasped.

"You don't believe he would?" McGonagall gulped.

"I am certain of it."

"How are we supposed to get them out?" Professor Sinistra asked.

Neville, who was standing nearby and looking out a window, turned to look at them. Even though he was no longer in allegiance with Dumbledore, he didn't want innocent children to die.

"I know the perfect place," he said.

 _LINE-BREAK_

Voldemort checked his watch impatiently. There were still twenty minutes left in the hour. The courtyard was still empty other than the Death Eaters. Occasionally they could see a head of two peek out a window.

Neville had led the staff into the Room of Requirement. They were all amazed (including Neville) to find that the room had created a passageway that came out in the Hog's Head. Then they came back out and Dumbledore called everyone to the Great Hall.

"As you can see," he said. "Lord Voldemort is at our door. In order to protect you, I need all prefects to gather everyone and take them to a room on the fifth floor. Those of you who are above seventeen and wish to remain here and fight, may do so. I will have Professor McGonagall show you to the passageway. Everyone else, prepare for battle."

McGonagall hurried off and showed the prefects the way out of the castle. She returned after everyone had left the Hall, minus all seventh years and the Order of the Phoenix. Then Dumbledore marched out of the Great Hall. The staff and the Order hurried out after him.

"We cannot let you go out there alone," McGonagall said.

"Yes," Sprout added. "We fight together, or not at all."

"Hear, hear!" Flitwick squeaked.

 _LINE-BREAK_

Harish scrambled to his feet as the front doors of the castle opened. It was five minutes to midnight. Dumbledore marched out and stood, gazing at them all. The Death Eaters hissed at him. Then, to all their surprise, nearly a hundred people gathered behind him, adult and student alike, together and side by side. Harish noticed that all of the DA were there.

There was a moment of silence in which everyone waited apprehensively for someone to make the first move.

"You should not have come here, Tom," Dumbledore said, drawing his wand.

Voldemort drew his own wand.

"You will die here, old man," he retorted. Both sides waited, ready to fire. Then Voldemort cried, "Avada Kedavra!"

One of the winged boars came to life, flying in front of Dumbledore to take the blast. Then, the old man disappeared with a whirl of his cloak, reappearing behind Voldemort within the next second. Around them, both sides sprung to life, coming at each other.

Voldemort quickly shot off another Killing Curse, causing Dumbledore to back away slightly, but missed and hit a pillar on the far wall of the courtyard, taking a chunk of stone with it. Dumbledore flicked his own wand. The force of the spell that emanated from it was so strong that all combatants around them were pushed away at least five feet. This time Voldemort was forced to conjure a shining silver shield out of thin air to deflect it. The spell, whatever it was, did not visibly damage the shield, but a deep, gonglike sound reverberated from it, an oddly chilling sound…

"You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?" Voldemort called mockingly, his crystal blue eyes narrowing above the top of his shield. "Above such brutality, are you?"

"We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom," Dumbledore replied calmly, continuing to walk toward Voldemort as though he had not a fear in the world. "Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit—"

"There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!" Voldemort snarled.

"I could think of other things," Dumbledore said, his eyes flitting to where Harish was dueling a member of the Order, "but if that is what you want—"

Another jet of green light flew from behind the silver shield. This time, what was left of the nearby shattered pillar took the blow, shattering to a million pieces. Before they even reached the ground, Dumbledore had drawn his wand and brandished it like waving a whip. A long thing flame flew from the tip; it wrapped itself around Voldemort, shield and all. For a moment, it seemed as though Dumbledore had won, but then the fiery rope became a serpent, which relinquished its hold upon Voldemort at once and turned, hissing furiously, to face Dumbledore.

Voldemort vanished. The snake reared from the floor, ready to strike—

There was a burst of flame in mid-air above Dumbledore just as Voldemort reappeared, standing behind Dumbledore. Another jet of green light flew at Dumbledore just as the snake struck—

Fawkes appeared in front of Dumbledore in a flash of flame, opened his beak wide, and swallowed the jet of green light whole. He burst into flame and fell to the floor, small, wrinkled, and flightless. At the same moment, Dumbledore brandished his wand in one, long, fluid movement the snake, which had been and instant from sinking its fangs into him, flew high into the air and vanished in a wisp of dark smoke; water materialized out of the air and covered Voldemort like a cocoon of molten glass—

For a few seconds Voldemort was visible only as a dark, rippling, faceless figure, shimmering and indistinct in the air, clearly struggling to throw off the suffocating mass—

Then the water dropped and he slammed into the ground. Sopping wet and seething, Voldemort stood with a cough, choke, and another cough. Quickly, he glanced to his left, locating Harish, before moving to block him from view and began dueling again.

Around the two of them, courtyard was a scene of chaos. Harish was battling Kingsley Shacklebolt. Mrs. Weasley was dueling Bellatrix. The twins were taking on Mad-Eye Moody together. Above, Lavender Brown and Professor Trelawney were dropping glass orbs onto unsuspecting Death Eaters. The DA had started fighting on Voldemort's side.

And in the centre of it all, Voldemort and Dumbledore were still dueling, not far from Harish. Harish gave one last wave of his wand, and stunned Shacklebolt. Just as he lowered his wand, hair flying, triumph on his face, Voldemort stepped to the side and Dumbledore saw Harish.

"Nice one, Harry!" Sirius called, feet away.

Just then, Dumbledore realized who Harish really was. His hair was messy, resembling James's. His eyes, which were shaped like Lily's, were narrowed in triumph. And on the young man's face was a grin that was identical to James's own cheeky smirk. Harish Blake was none other than Harry Potter.

Dumbledore's eyes lit with fury and his entire being seethed with rage. As if in slow motion, Harish turned to see Dumbledore take a gradual step toward him. The old man raised his wand and Harish's eyes widened as he roared, " _AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

Harish reached for his wand, but it was too late, Just as the jet of green light reached him, a black blur sped in front of him, took the blast, and crumpled at his feet.

It seemed as though the entire battle had stopped as Harish crouched down beside the limp form. Bangs and shouts echoed about the courtyard but they sounded distant, far away. Harish kneeled down, put his hand on the man's shoulder, and rolled him over so he could see his face.

Harish let out a scream, scrambling backwards as his own father's lifeless eyes stared back at him. Tears streamed down Harish's face as he sat there in shock. Then, his eyes flashed a brilliant, emerald green as he slowly lifted his face to Dumbledore.

Slowly he stood, shaking with fury and grief. Tears were pouring down his face, falling onto his robes, and splashing on the cobblestone beneath their feet.

The young man took a step forward as Dumbledore took a step back.

" _Diffindo_!" Harish exclaimed.

Dumbledore flicked the spell away like a hippogriff flicking a fly off its back.

" _Sectemsempra!_ " Harish shouted.

Again, Dumbledore blocked the spell and took a step back. Nearby, other combatants stopped to watch.

" _Expulsis Aruspice!"_ Harish cried.

The twins joined in as well, but their spells were nowhere near as deadly as Harish's. Dumbledore was forced to conjure a shield as three spells pushed him back. They held their spells.

Then, as soon as Dumbledore's shield broke, Harish roared, " _AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

Everyone stopped and watched in shock as the old man fell to the ground. All power was gone from his now frail body. Harish turned toward the gates. Behind him lay Dumbledore and before him was his father. The young man bowed his head. Victory had not been achieved how he had expected.

"We won," he said despondently.

* * *

 **~TTFN**


	137. Part 8: Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: I do not own Tom Riddle, Lily Potter, or the universe they belong to, nor do I make profit off of it.**

* * *

 **Chapter Eighteen: Slapped by My Son's Mother**

Tom Riddle was an enigma. Born in an orphanage, the only thing he knew of his parents was his name—Tom Marvolo Riddle. Tom for his father and Marvolo for his grandfather. The other kids in the orphanage always knew there was something different about him. They ridiculed him, mocked him…But he learned to fight back. The objects in the box in his closet were his treasures—tribute from the others in the orphanage to keep him from using his growing powers to pay back the wrongs.

And one day Tom Riddle discovered that his powers were not unusual—far from it actually—there was a whole world waiting for him. He went to Hogwarts to unlock his potential, dreaming big and achieving bigger. Tom made the top grades in his year. He studied new methods of magic. The boy pursued projects outside of class.

Amidst the bigotry, the son of a muggle managed to thrive and make a name for himself. He even decided to stop bigotry itself. Leaving Hogwarts, Tom Riddle resolved to change the Wizarding World. But with power comes corruption. As his followers grew, he saw them less as supporters and more of an army.

Some said that Lord Voldemort, as Tom Riddle became known as, had no soul and perhaps it was true. He killed hundreds, and on the way he lost sight of his original goal. He fell into his own hierarchy with him at the top.

As his power and influence grew, a prophecy surfaced—a prophecy of a boy who had the power to defeat the greatest sorcerer and threat of their time. When one has power, they never want to lose it. It is addicting. So, Voldemort naturally went after the boy. But then, he remembered—he remembered that power can be used. The world isn't split into good and bad—to Voldemort, there was only power and those too weak to use it.

So he took the boy, not knowing that the boy would be his undoing.

And now Voldemort found himself sitting on a bench in a blank expanse of nothing. It was as though he was surrounded by a thick mist that had not quite decided what to be yet. He was perfectly alone. No one was watching. No one else was there. He was not exactly sure he was there himself.

But he _was_ there, he realized. He was wearing a fresh, soft pair of black robes, and any blemish that had been on his skin from the battle was now gone. In fact, if he could have seen himself he would have known that his hair was no longer brown. It was black as it originally had been. His glamour was gone.

At the back of his mind, he felt like he shouldn't be there. But he _was_ there, wherever _there_ was. The man vaguely wondered if something had gone wrong—he had performed a ritual that was supposed to keep him from moving on to the afterlife. Not a Horcrux, of course. He had dabbled with those a bit, but after he read enough, he learned that once one split their soul enough times, it drove them mad. The Dark Lord, not wanting to go mad before he could reach his goal, had immediately abandoned his pursue of Horcruxes and turned his attention to another means of immortality—a ritual that could be done to keep one from dying.

There were many ways to stay immortal. By means of Horcruxes, one would split their soul through murder and hide the piece in an object—that way, one could not die unless the piece of the soul was found and destroyed. Another way was to drink the Elixir of Life. It kept one young and healthy, but it had a dependency that no Dark Lord wanted and it did not save one from dying if they were hit by the Killing Curse. A third way to live on and escape death was to drink unicorn's blood—an act so low that it would reduce the drinker to a pitiful creature, only hanging on desperately to life with each sip.

The fourth and final way that Voldemort discovered was a ritual that could keep one alive, young, and healthy no matter the circumstance. He did not have the chance to perform it at first. In fact, he did not get the means to it until the end of his son's third year. The ritual's key ingredients were a vial of the Elixir of Life, and a long incantation.

At first, Voldemort had scoured the Wizarding World, searching in vain to see if someone, _anyone,_ sold vials of the Elixir of Life. Finally, he gave up hope. Then, his son had brought him the Philosopher's Stone, and he had all the ingredients he needed—or the means to brew the ingredients. The Dark Lord, being a mediocre brewer, had waited—why rush into immortality, after all?—and the minute Severus Snape had been turned to his cause, aware of his reappearance, he had made the man brew the elixir, under an oath of secrecy.

Voldemort had then performed the ritual, which _should_ have kept him alive (though there was some controversy as to whether it stopped the Killing Curse or not).

And still he found himself just sitting there, feeling like he was waiting on something. He stood, and looked around at the brightly lit, perfectly clean space he had found himself in. A long time later, or perhaps no time at all, a figure appeared out of the mist.

It was the figure of a woman.

She had long red hair and kind green eyes. Voldemort felt as if he knew her from somewhere. He had a fleeting memory of emerald green light, the sound of a baby's cry, and a red-head falling like a marionette whose strings had been cut. It was Lily Potter.

She glided towards him and he watched warily. Then, as soon as she reached him, she slapped him across the face. Voldemort staggered backwards, a hand up to his cheek.

He was not angry, and frankly he thought he deserved the slap.

"That's for orphaning my son," she said. Then, she quickly embraced him in a hug. "And that's for taking care of him," she said much more softly.

Voldemort stood still for a moment after she let go. He did not know what to make of her.

Finally, he asked, "Where are we?"

"That is for you to decide," she replied.

Voldemort looked around. It almost seemed like a clean version of King's Cross Station—the place he went to take his first step in his journey into the Wizarding World.

"I am simply here to deliver a message," she continued, causing him to turn back to her.

"Message?" Voldemort asked.

"About the prophecy," Lily replied. "Surely you must have heard of it."

"Might have," Voldemort replied, looking down. "Yes."

" _The one with the power to vanquish the most powerful wizard of our time approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied the Dark Lord, born as the seventh month dies. He will have powers the Dark Lord knows not. Either must die only at the hand of the other, for neither can truly live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the most powerful wizard of our time will be born as the seventh month dies_."

"Yes, I know," Voldemort repeated. "It means while I live, Harish must die. That he has a power I know not."

"Yes," Lily replied, "and no."

Voldemort's eyebrows drew together in confusion.

"It is true that Harish has a power you know not. You raised him. Surely you must have discovered what it is."

Voldemort shook his head.

"Love," Lily answered for him. "Even though Harish was raised by the greatest Dark Lord the Wizarding World has seen yet, he has not ceased to love. You made the right choice in raising Harry. In what you thought you would find power, you actually found love. ' _Either must die only at the hand of the other, for neither can truly live while the other survives.'_ This does not mean that one will live and one must die, it means that one must know love and _truly_ live, for what are we without love?"

"So that means I do not have to die?" Voldemort asked hopefully.

"Oh, you have to die," Lily replied, "but not quite yet."

As she said that, the brilliantly white King's Cross Station began to fade until it was just the two of them surrounded by darkness.

"Go to Harish," she said. "He needs you."

And suddenly the weightless feeling was gone and he was plummeting down, unable to see anything. Then, it stopped and he realized he was aching all over.

After a moment, Voldemort did something he had been forgetting to do—breathe.

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 **Voldie's not dead! In fact, I doubt he fears death like he used to, because he has found that death is not as painful or horrible as one would expect.**

 **~TTFN**


	138. Part 8: Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

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 **Chapter Nineteen: The End :) :)**

Harish had no idea how long he stood there, faced away from the two fallen sorcerers, trying to let it sink in that his father was gone. Everyone was silent, watching him to see what he would do next. Finally, the silence was broken by a loud gasp of breath and wracking coughs. Harish could hardly believe his ears.

He turned to see Voldemort on his hands and knees, face down, coughing and gasping for breath.

"You're all right!" Harish cried, running forward and launching into a hug.

His father let out an "oof!" of surprise and staggered back slightly. Harish let go and helped his father to his feet. Surprisingly, the Dark Lord did not protest. Instead, he said wheezily, "Of course I am _all right_. Did you expect me to just _leave_ you here?"

Harish let out a shaky laugh, wiping the tears from his face. Voldemort observed the crowd of people, watching him. Then, he turned and saw Dumbledore lying on the ground.

"Ah," he said. He turned to his son. "I imagine you did that."

Harish nodded.

Bellatrix broke away from the crowd and joined them. The three walked away, and once they were alone Harish asked, "So what will happen now?"

"We join together and rebuild our society the way it was meant to be," Voldemort replied evenly. "And we'll do it together."

He looked from his son to Bellatrix. At that moment, he could not believe he had ever valued power over love, for what would he be without love?

 _THE-END—OR-NAH?_

Harish sat on one of the green couches in the living room at Slytherin Manor, reading the _Daily Prophet_ with his feet propped up on the coffee table. Beside him, Sirius sat with his own feet propped up on the table, charming a small child's collection of pebbles to dance around the floor, flashing different colors. The child in question, Matthias, was about three years old. He watched the pebbles with a fascinated, lopsided grin. Across the living room, Voldemort sat in a chair, watching their surroundings. Children from the ages of three to seventeen littered the manor, which had been expanded quite a bit.

All of the family was over for the Christmas holidays. The twins were not there, however, because they had just orchestrated the opening of a new version of their joke shop in Venezuela. Hopefully they would be back by that evening, as the family was going to be eating their annual Christmas Eve dinner.

Suddenly, a gaggle of boys from the ages of nine to thirteen ran into the previously peaceful room, arguing heatedly.

"He is too!"

"Is not!"

"You're a liar!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

" _Am not!_ "

"ARE TOO!"

"Boys!" Voldemort suddenly snapped. "What have I said?"

"No arguing in your presence, Grandfather," one of them piped up.

"Yes," Voldemort replied. "Now you should do best to remember."

"Yes, Grandfather," they all chimed, bowing low.

"What were you arguing about in the first place?" Sirius asked with curiosity.

"He said that Father was over a century old, Padfoot," one ten-year-old said, pointing to Harish, who looked not a day over twenty.

Harish laughed.

"What does century mean?" the nine-year-old asked.

"It means a hundred years," Sirius replied.

"Well?" an eleven-year-old asked.

"Well what?" Harish questioned.

"How old _are_ you?" another ten-year-old answered.

"One hundred and eighteen," Harish replied, before pausing. "I think."

"I told you," the thirteen-year-old whispered as the boys began walked back out, and by the time they had left the room they could be heard shouting, "SHUT UP!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Says who?"

"Says me!"

Harish laughed again, and then returned to his paper. It had been a hundred years since the war and the death of Dumbledore. Their family reached over fifty persons and almost all were still alive, living off the Elixir of Life.

All was well.

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 **Goodbye my lovely readers! I hope you enjoyed the story.**


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